


The Promise of a New Dawn

by WhisperingDarkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bit of angsty Harry, But also Cuteness, Comfort, Elfling! Harry, Elves, Family, Feelings, Friendship, Gen, Protectiveness, Rangers, Rivendell, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 60,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingDarkness/pseuds/WhisperingDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry as an elfling on Arda. A new world, a new life, a new chance. A new hope to finally find that which he had been searching for for such a long time. Can he truly start afresh, or are the shadows of his past too lasting to shake off?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** : Harry Potter events may not be entirely canonical. For as far as they are mentioned. I keep to most of the books but I'm leaving book 6 and 7 floating a bit. No mention made of Horcruxes and Harry's weird moment of death, some people didn't die… and well, suffice to say is that he defeated Voldemort in the end, sometime during 7th year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to AnimeIceFox from ff.net for the cute drawing!

 

 

* * *

 

After Voldemort's defeat Harry didn't really feel anything.

He had imagined he would feel victorious, relieved, happy or even terribly guilty for having killed another person.

Instead there was nothing. No fear of having turned into a monster, no happiness at finally being free from that bloody prophecy. No pride at the parties that were held in his honour. No unbridled joy at the sound of his friends' carefree, relieved laughter. Just an all-encompassing numbness that spread through his entire being.

This was all he’d been working towards and now that his purpose was fulfilled there was nothing left.

He snorted at himself, feeling the slightest twinge of bitter amusement. 'I'm seventeen years old’ he reminded himself, because he felt _ages_ older than that, ‘I should be out there partying, getting drunk, pulling stupid pranks or basking in the ladies' attention.' The idea of doing any of those things was not in the least bit appealing. It never had been, to him.

Instead he did his best to avoid the wizarding world. He had no desire to listen to the accusations of those who had lost loved ones, the occasional veiled threats and the overwhelming hero worship.

Most of his friends didn't seem to know what to do with him. Out of everyone only Ron and Hermione seemed to somewhat understand what he was feeling. They had stood at his side for so long and through so many dangers that they knew him better than anyone else.

There was a bond between the three of them, one that could only be created through hardships faced together. The tentative start of that bond came into being during their very first year, while facing that troll in the girls’ bathroom. After that it had only increased in strength. Now Ron and Hermione were just about the only ones who could get him to… really care.

It wasn't that he didn’t bother with anyone else anymore. He still cared for the Weasleys, for his friends from the DA, for Remus and a few other members of the Order. But the rest of the world, the wizarding world as a whole that was hailing him as their saviour once more - the nameless, faceless 'innocents' that he had fought so hard for, defending them from the Dark Lord… He cared no more for them.

It should be enough, shouldn't it? He had his friends, his _family_ in a way. And they were slowly rebuilding all that had been lost. They were moving on. Remus and Tonks, the twins and their joke shop, Ron and Hermione… A smile formed on his face as he remembered their wedding. The first truly happy moment after the conclusion of the war. He was happy for them, he really was. He was glad that everyone was moving on. And still he felt, almost left behind.

Harry knew he was always welcome amongst any of them but… he didn't feel like he belonged there anymore. Sure, he smiled and felt warm at their happiness but he just couldn't find any joy of his very own.

He almost wished he had died at the end. Not because he longed for death, not really but… it would have been almost fitting, wouldn’t it? If it wasn’t for the pain it would have caused his friends… it would have been nice. At least death would have been _something_. 'The next great adventure…'

He shook his head, sighing, and turned his back to the thought. This was one thought he would _not_ be sharing with Ron and Hermione - they were worried enough as it was. Harry shook his head once more and went to bed.

'Perhaps things will look better in the morning,' he told himself again - as he had for the past few days just before sleep claimed him.

Perhaps this time, it would.


	2. Transcendence

When Harry woke up, he wasn’t in his bed; he wasn’t even in his bedroom – or his house. He stood up, but there was nothing to stand on. "Am I dreaming?" he thought out loud.

The voices that answered him were not as surprising as they should be. "You are not."

Strangely enough he did not feel panicked, standing there in nothingness, listening to voices belonging to no one he could see. 

Perhaps it was because he didn’t really care anymore? He mused to himself. 'Or perhaps I have seen too many strange things in the wizarding world to be truly surprised by anything anymore.' 

After spending his first few weeks at Hogwarts in a constant state of awe at just about anything; from talking portraits, to ghosts, to moving staircases, unicorns and dragons, he had just stopped looking at the world with his mouth hanging open and decided to take things as they were. A few incidents had still rattled him, like when he thought he had been hearing murderous voices (but it turned out to be the basilisk from the chamber of secrets) or when he first met Fawkes on his burning day, but other than these exceptions he had turned mostly unflappable due to the constant occurrences of strange and unbelievable things in the wizarding world.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Then where am I?" he asked, when the voices didn't say or do (who knows, maybe a voice _could_ do something) anything else.

"You are with us, young one." they answered as one, "it is not truly a place except that we are here. As are you."

'Well, that wasn't really an answer.' Harry thought to himself, but then what answer was he expecting. They were certainly right in that this was not truly a place, there was really nothing there. Merely… nothingness…

"Why am I here?" He asked then, thinking that that was really a far better question to ask.

The voices smiled at him, though how he knew that was beyond him, "There lies a promise in you, child. One that we would have fulfilled," was their answer, and for the first time since he got here Harry felt apprehensive. 

"A promise?" he forced out through a suddenly dry throat. "I don't recall making anyone a promise like... that." Like _what_ , exactly, he wasn't sure but he felt sure enough that he didn't make any promises that would somehow include ending up in this not-place. Besides, his apprehension made denial seem like a very good option. Whatever it was he certainly wanted no part in it.

"It was not such a promise" they replied, ignoring or oblivious to his misgivings about this whole… _thing_. "It is not a promise that was created by speaking, only by being."

"So…" Harry replied slowly, with a feeling of dread. "It is a promise made not by me, but by who I am?" His dread quickly turned to anger before dying in a painfully empty haze of exhausted resignation. "Didn't I already do my part?" he asked softly, wishing nothing more than to be finally free of the burden that was placed upon him by being who he was. The dratted 'boy-who-lived'.

The voices were comforting, almost loving when they replied this time, and he could almost feel them envelop him. "Oh, little one, you have indeed fulfilled your promise in your world. 

You have done the duty thrust upon you, and done it well. But there is more than one promise carried by your soul. One of them was forced on to you when you were but a babe..."

Here Harry unconsciously touched his characteristic scar. A scar that, like all scars, was now but a memento of a painful past.

The formless beings watched his thoughts stray to the consequences of that scar, and while the boy-turned-almost-man relived the loss of his parents, the loss of the sense of home and of belonging, of his innocence and childhood, they wrapped around him in warmth and comfort. The closest thing to an embrace that they could achieve.

"The promise tied up in that scar is fulfilled, little one. You have done well. Better than anyone could have hoped for." They continued, soothingly. "But there lies a promise with you that had been there even longer. One that had been with you from your birth."

With that explanation the sense of dread returned vengefully, it overcame him then, so overwhelming in its intensity that it surprised even himself. He wanted no more _promises_ or duties, he was done. He did his part and he was _done_.

"…no…" he said weakly, unable to muster up the strength to protest more vehemently.

'No!' he screamed in his mind

'No more, not again.' his very soul pleaded.

"Oh, child…" said the voices as they wrapped their concern for him around him in an even tighter protective hug. "No like duty lies before you, little one," they assured him, "Worry not, your Fate is now of your own making."

"What?" he croaked. "What do you want from me, then?"

They did not release him from their insubstantial arms. "Do not see this as a duty, child. Do not let your heart be so troubled by its previous burdens," they tried to convince him "This is not a duty thrust upon you, nor a wound inflicted upon you, leaving a scar. There is a promise that lays in your bloodline, child." They waited a moment in silence, but whether it was for him to protest or agree he didn't know. He stayed silent, doing neither of those things and they shortly continued in their explanation.

"Long ago some of our children came to your world. They were lost to us, there. Beyond our reach. As were their children and their children's children." The voices sounded mournful and for the first time since Voldemort's defeat Harry felt his heart stir again with the concern for others, a sense that used to come to him as easy as breathing. As a remnant of his own painful, unloved childhood, his heart had always reached out to those souls who called to him with the feelings of loss, helplessness or fear that echoed inside of him from his own past. 

He thought that he had become immune to such feelings of compassion with the numbness that came over him after Voldemort's death. He was actually relieved now, when he found out that this was not the case. 'One thing that I didn’t lose along the way.'

The voices continued then in a more uplifting tone as if to dispel their own sadness; "But all was not lost. Though many centuries passed we remained watchful of our children. Their blood thinned as they mingled with mortals and eventually some of these lines died out until but two remained."

"Despite the centuries that passed, the blood of the Eldar is strong, and when the descendants of the two lines met in love we felt a joy like no other come over us. Birth is rare amongst our Firstborn children and although that dimmed while the bloodline diluted there was still a large chance no child would come from this union. And yet, this love seemed so predestined that for the first time in centuries we felt hope for our lost children. With the union of these lines the blood again grew strong. With our lost ones united in such a way we knew we would, in the end, be able to bring the last of their descendants home. A promise was come with your birth, and it would have been fulfilled with your death."

"My _death_?" Harry yelped, no longer capable of listening in silence and trying to wrestle free from the airy hold of these invisible beings. "But… but I'm not dead!"

"No…" the voices soothed, letting the panicked boy take his distance, ‘You are not, little one." 

They sighed in unison, a sad, evanescent sound. "Something interfered with this plan. The dark wizard, the prophecy, your mother's defence..."

"My mother… my mother saved me."

"Yes," they agreed. "Her love for you was strong. But she could not save you completely. You had a brush with death that day. We might have tried to regain you then but the cost to your world would have been considerable. And we did not want your mother's sacrifice to be in vain."

"So we waited until _that_ promise, that prophecy, was fulfilled." The words 'either way' echoed in silence between Harry and the voices.

"We would have waited then, even longer…" they continued after a moments pause, replacing the unspoken words that hung between them with audible ones. "…for your mortal life to come to its end. But, with the role you had taken upon yourself with the defeat of your enemy and all that it entailed, it became clear to us that this was no longer to be. "

“And after centuries of watching and waiting we had waited long enough.”

The young wizard blinked. 'The voices had become impatient?' he thought in bafflement at such an unexpected admission from ancient (they did watch his world for centuries), powerful (or so he assumed from their ability to take him here, wherever here was), insubstantial beings.

"You too, seemed to have waited long enough." They continued swiftly, and Harry got the impression that they were actually embarrassed by their own impatience. "You seemed to us adrift in that world without truly belonging. So we believed it time." They finished.

Both Harry and the voices remained silent then. The wizard thinking about all he had been told and the voices waiting serenely for him to speak.

Harry did not understand all that he’d heard, he felt similarly overwhelmed as after his introduction to the wizarding world. Perhaps even more so. Although the shock was less than it had been then, due to his experiences in life (he had been shocked too often to be easily caught of guard), the information overload was _more_. He felt as if he had been told about his mother's protective magic, the wards around Privet Drive that were powered by that protective love _and_ the prophecy on his first day in the wizarding world. And while not being kept in the dark was a refreshing experience, it was also a slight strain on his brain.

Despite all the information he felt that he also lacked the background information to make the pieces fit. He didn’t fully understand everything and didn’t even know where to start with his questions, or even which questions to ask. Except for one.

"Time for what?"

"For you, the only remaining descendant of our lost children, to be returned to where you truly belong." The voices wrapped around him once more and he felt their hopeful, loving goodbye. It was a foreign, strange sensation that left him feeling both slightly panicked and slightly reassured.

'Belong?' was the last, questioning thought in his head before he felt the intangible beings' airy arms drag him into something that was neither dark nor light. He felt his body tingle with warmth and his eyes fluttered closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm reposting this story from FF.net - though I haven't finished it yet... 
> 
> I'm re-reading and brushing it up a bit as I go along and hope that when I come to the end of posting my pre-written chapters, I will be 'back in the swing of it' and inspired enough to actually _finish_ this story...


	3. Reborn

This time Harry woke up to the sound of water and the warmth of the sun on his face and when he opened his eyes he knew instantly that whatever the previous experience had been, it hadn’t been a dream.

The fact that he woke up not in his bed but on the shore was kind of a dead giveaway. 'Unless the twins suddenly decided to start testing their pranks on me.'

He sat up and made his second big discovery - or actually, two discoveries at once. One; he had shrunk. Two; he was utterly naked.

Oh yeah, and three; he had absolutely _no_ idea where he was.

But wherever he was, he didn’t feel too worried – didn’t sense any immediate danger. What he did notice was that there was something fresh about his surroundings, unspoiled and pure – like a flowerbed in spring or newly fallen snow.

Harry looked around him in amazement. The sound of the waves washed over him, making him feel both calm and strangely excited. He wasn’t sure _why_ he felt so overwhelmed by his new surroundings but was unable to escape the feeling none the less. The world seemed brighter to him now - and he realised that he was wearing no glasses. Not only was his sight clearer than it had ever been so was his sense of smell and more than that his sense of _feeling_. Not just the sense of touch but something deeper, more intangible and very difficult to describe.

Harry stood there for a long moment, looking out at the sea, seeing, feeling, sensing, _being_.

A long moment passed before he could finally manage to shake off the strange feeling that had overcome him. 'I must look so stupid. Standing here but-naked, staring at the sea like I've never seen it before.' He had to admit, though, that the sea looked different to him now. 

'Perhaps because it is a different sea.' 

With that thought reality hit him with the force of a stampeding dragon. 'A _different_ sea…' trepidation crept up on him when he started to actually think about his current situation – and how he had ended up there, '…those voices kept talking about… _my_ world… they said that my ancestors… came to _my_ world long ago.' 

He felt faint and sat down where he stood. 'They said it was time for me to… _return_ to where I truly belong. This... isn't even my world, is it?'

Another long moment passed him by as he looked out over the sea, this time not really seeing anything but lost in a world of his own.

In his life, he’d had his world overturned more than once by a startling revelation. Some of them had been wonderful, like his discovery of magic and the fact that he was a wizard. But many of them had also been frightening – such as learning that he’d had to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Or horrifying – like witnessing Voldermort’s return. And a very few had been so painful and maddening they had hit him like a punch in the gut… such as when he had first learned who Sirius Black was, and had believed that it was his godfather who had betrayed his parents to Voldermort.

This event was as shocking as any of them – but after the initial shock had passed he just blinked and shrugged his shoulders. Harry wasn’t quite sure what to feel about this but was sure that he should probably be feeling something _more_. Just as after his first arrival in the… not-place, where he met the…uh… voices, he felt surprisingly un-panicked.

He just decided to take his calm acceptance of the situation as a good thing for now and figured he might as well get the rest of it over with too. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound…’ So he mentally prepared himself for the next shock and finally examined point one of the aforementioned discoveries further: his even further diminished height.

Looking down at himself he was still slightly shocked to see his own tiny hands and feet. He had already realised that he was smaller but he hadn't expected _this_. 

'I'm a child!' 

The wizard tried to find out if anything else had changed. At least his hair was still the same colour, he noted dimly. His scar was still there as well, he noted, for the first time actually _glad_ to feel his fingers run over the familiar memento. He had no way of checking his eyes, and his ears… he felt another start of surprise, were _pointed_ at the tips.

He mentally went over everything the voices had told him. He remembered them mentioning a bloodline, the blood of the Eldar that both his parents apparently had. No mention of pointed ears. He shook his head. There was no use pondering all this now.

Having taken stock of his altered body, Harry looked down at the sand around him, looking for his wand. When he didn’t find it, he realised for the first time that his wand might not have made the journey with him. Then an even worse thought hit him: 'am I even still a wizard now that I have… changed?' 

Panic raced through his body with a vengeance; 'without a wand, without magic, I have no way to defend myself!' By now he was desperately searching the beach but to no avail – his wand wasn’t there.

In the end Harry had to take a few calming breaths and remind himself that he had made it out of far worse situations, but it wasn’t easy to fight the panic down. He wasn’t as dependent on his wand as most wizards – his muggle upbringing made him view his wand more as a very important tool, while a pureblood would feel like their right arm had been amputated if it was missing. But it was still essential – especially when he was completely lost and alone.

His eyes scanned the sand for the familiar peace of wood for one last time, desperately hoping to find something that he already _knew_ , by now, wasn’t there. Besides him, the beach held nothing but sand and seashells. 

Absently, Harry found himself picking up the shell nearest to him - perhaps only in an attempt to give his empty hand something to hold. Delaying the inevitable, he examined it quietly for a long moment; it was a small, white shell with a few dark lines running through it – nothing special. And yet, he didn’t let it drop back to the sand. But he did sigh and finally resigned himself to the situation – his wand wasn’t there.

'Firsts things first', he mentally told himself, drawing himself up.

The list of necessities that had unconsciously been drilled into his head during his time at the Dursleys jumped immediately to the forefront of his mind. First he had to find some clothes, food and shelter.

Harry looked around him carefully, but saw nothing that would denote any sign of civilization. He finally gave up _that_ search as well and decided to do what Gryffindors do best.

Seeing no other choice in the matter he foolishly picked a random direction and started walking, leaving the breaking waves of the sea behind him, a single white seashell still clutched gently in one hand.

Staying put and feeling sorry for yourself never helped anyone, after all.

  


* * *

  


Harry had left the sea and sand behind him and traded it for trees, earth, moss and grass. When he came across a fallen tree, he sat down to rest.

He’d been walking for hours and still the only signs he had seen of any other living beings in this world where the birds, buzzing insects and butterflies that shared this forest with him.

Perhaps he shouldn't have entered the forest, instead he might have skirted around it in fear of becoming even more hopelessly lost. But something about it had called to him. The smell of the woods and the sound of the wind gently rustling the tree's leaves made him enter it before he could think twice about it.

He frowned as he thought about this, wanting to brush it off to his Griffindorish tendencies but failing to do so. 'I don't usually barge into things without thinking about it first. Not unless lives are at stake.' Granted, considering that he was Harry Potter, with the oddest luck and with a habit of attracting trouble - those times were actually pretty often. 'But that isn't the case _now_.'

He looked down at the seashell still in his hand, wondering why he had taken it with him, telling himself that he should just leave it. But a part of him refused to leave it behind. It was the same part that had made him wander into the forest because he liked the smell and _feel_ of it, the same part that had picked some berries he had come across, instinctively knowing they were alright to eat. _That_ part of him still clutched the seashell, feeling lost and alone in this world and wanting something, _anything_ , real to hold on to.

There where other things he had noticed about himself too, the most annoying of these the childish urges that rose up in him every once in a while…

When spotting a particularly interestingly shaped tree he had felt the irrepressible urge to climb it for no real reason other than that it looked… _fun_. And climb it he had, with an agility, light-footedness and grace that had completely stunned him.

When a butterfly had cheerfully danced around him he had only barely managed to suppress the inane urge to _giggle_. Only to lose to that same temptation later on when he had come across a small grassy clearing filled with beautiful flowers of all colours. He giggled then, when he ran around amongst them, releasing from his throat such a tinkling, innocent, happy sound that he was taken aback by the fact that he was even capable of uttering it.

After a moment of pondering these changes, Harry stood up once more to continue his trek through the woods. 'These childish urges are probably a side effect from becoming a… child again. And the other changes probably have to do with these ancestors of mine and the bloodline that the voices spoke of,' he reasoned and started walking once more.

There was little he could do about what was going on. 'I just hope that I'll be able to get a hold on these childish urges soon.' If there is anything the wizard really hated it was feeling helpless, dependent and not in control.

During his time in the wizarding world he had often had the feeling of being a puppet, a symbol or some sort of weapon for others. He despised being used like that, but even worse than being the scapegoat or public saviour was not even being in control of his own body or being any more. 

And, although these childish urges and feelings were completely different from being harassed by the media or being held under the Imperious curse, they still frightened him badly.

  


* * *

  


It was getting dark and he still wasn't getting anywhere. At least, not that he could tell.

As much as he had actually preferred being alone after the war ended; getting stranded, alone, in what was in all likelihood a different _world_ and finding himself far away from anyone remotely human-like was perhaps a bit _too_ much when it came to getting away from the wizarding world. 'And spending the whole day walking, occasionally _playing_ and _laughing_ , and having far too much time to _think_ isn't really conductive to my sanity either.'

Ah yes, and let's not forget the part where he had been changed in a childlike, not quite _human_ , being. What had those voices called the people whose blood ran through his veins… the Eldar?

In any case, his abilities seemed to have drastically improved. He could see, hear and smell much better than before. His body was far more agile and he was actually surprised at how long he had been able to keep on walking. 'Considering I have the body of a child I had expected to tire out far sooner than I normally would.' As it was his stamina hadn't really decreased, or increased for that matter.

Even so, he couldn't keep going indefinitely. And, although he could still see where he was going well enough despite the darkening sky, his exhaustion was catching up on him and he knew he had to find somewhere to sleep.

Seeing no form of shelter anywhere and having neither the knowledge nor energy to actually construct something he would have to settle for just lying down somewhere. 

In the end he let the instincts that seemed to come with his new body guide him to a mossy gap between the roots of a large tree. There he curled up and allowed sleep to overtake him.


	4. Not Alone

The new dawn found Harry already awake and ready to continue on his way, though he did not know where it would lead him.

'The next great adventure, perhaps?' he thought with a rueful smile, recalling how he had actually been somewhat wistful for it. 'This wasn't exactly the sort of 'adventure' I had in mind, though.' he thought, genuinely amused by the irony.

In the light of the new day the discoveries and events that had happened to him seemed not so grave. Yes, it was shocking, strange and even scary, but nothing bad had happened… yet. 

'With my luck, though, it can't be long now…' He smiled, thinking back at all the trouble he and his friends had managed to land themselves in, over the years. He had told them, years ago, that he didn't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually found him. Back then the war hadn't really started yet; it was before Voldemort's return, before everything turned darker.

He missed those days, when he couldn't yet see the Thestrals, when he still held that innocent wonder at all the magical things in the wizarding world. Back when it still seemed more dreadful to be _expelled_ than to be killed.

The young wizard felt a pang of longing thinking about Hermione and Ron, wishing that he could once more be with them, even though, only days ago he had been wishing for the 'next adventure' to claim him. Even more than returning to his own world, he wanted his friends _here_. With Ron and Hermione with him this strange adventure would not be so bad. 

But his friends weren't here. He was alone, and it was time for him to move on.

His smile dimmed, and even the cheerful birds and the hopeful light of the sun couldn't manage to make it return. He had never really minded the solitude, but now, alone in this new world it seemed a burden. 

Harry sighed, picked up his only 'belonging' and started walking again - for all he knew the sole person in existence in this world.

  


* * *

  


His heavy thoughts didn’t take hold of him for too long. The day was too bright, the forest too cheerful and his day was spent much like the previous one; filled with walking, thinking and yes, laughing and playing.

The strange enjoyment that the new, childish part of him took in everything around him was both startling and, oddly enough now that he was getting used to it, a bit of a relief. After the numbness he had felt back in his own world, after the war had forced him to lose the joy he took in the wizarding world it was nice to let go for a little while - to allow himself to enjoy the moment.

It was a strange contradictory way he was feeling. On the one hand it was very strange and even lonely that he had been here for almost two days without seeing any other living person. But he also felt a sense of _freedom_ in being here, alone, free to act as he will, free to laugh and play without anyone's judgment but his own. He _knew_ he was being childish but these childish urges were so hard to fight when it didn't seem that giving in to them would do any harm - there was no one here to even see him act like this. And this feeling of being absolutely free from the burdens he usually felt was so liberating that it was only rivalled by what he felt when he was flying.

Harry was shaken from these thoughts by an unexpected sound. 

He stood completely still, trying to identify what it was he was hearing. After a moment of silent listening he still wasn't sure and decided to move a little closer.

As silently as he could, he glided in the direction of where the sounds came from, curious and cautious as to what could be making it.

'Horses!' it finally dawned on him, recognizing the sound of hooves. An excitement filled him then, courtesy of the child in him and he gave into the temptation to come close enough to _see_ , making sure to be silent and keep to the shadows, not wanting them to see _him_ in turn. With his luck it was best to be cautious, even if his Griffindorish tendency to dive head first into trouble sometimes overruled that.

He was finally close enough to be able to peer through a gap in the trees and with his new enhanced eyesight he caught sight of the first other people he had seen since coming into this world.

  


* * *

  


The moment Harry laid eyes on them he felt a wave of relief sweep through him. He was not alone in this world.

Granted he hadn’t actually believed that he was, but not having encountered anyone yet in this world had made him feel a bit… lost.

While he was generally ignored at the Dursleys, revered or criticized in the wizarding world and didn't really like people on the whole because of that, he had never actually gone nearly two entire days without seeing _anyone_ , anywhere. There were _always_ strangers passing him by on the streets or the sound of voices from a neighbouring house. 

Here there hadn't been _any_ sign of other human beings, or even _non_ -human beings, and despite the fact that he usually actually preferred a sort of solitude, being _all_ alone in a _world_ was frightening to say the least.

It was just such a comfort to know that he wasn't entirely alone here, wherever here was, so he savoured the sight of other people. He remained where he was, watching the men pass him by from a distance.

There were three of them; rugged looking men carrying many weapons. Old-fashioned weapons at that: swords, bows and quivers. Their clothing and the fact that they rode horses added to the overall medieval picture.

He followed alongside the trio, making sure to keep a few lines of trees between them. He was thankful that the horses were kept to a walk since it would have been very difficult for him to keep up with them had they been going any faster.

Even so it was _still_ hard to keep up with them. He had already been walking for most of the day and he was getting tired. Still he kept going, despite his fatigue. He didn’t want to let these men leave his sight. And he had to admit to himself that, far more than the hope that they would lead him to what passed for civilisation in this world, it was the fear of being completely alone again in a strange world that made him follow them.

For almost two hours he stealthily tailed these strangers. He had heard them exchange a few words now and then but it was in a language he couldn’t understand. This bothered him. It wasn't that he had actually planned on approaching them but it would have been nice to know that he _could_ communicate with them if he wanted to.

Which he didn't. Want to. At all.

Ok, so maybe the new childish side of him actually wanted to introduce himself to these strangers, so he wouldn’t be alone anymore. But in this case Harry managed to ruthlessly squash the urge. He wasn't going to naively walk over to them and ask to join them for awhile. These men looked _dangerous_ and he had no wand and the body of a child. All he had now to defend himself was the ability to hide. Showing himself to these people would leave him far too vulnerable for his liking.

So he trailed behind them, like a slight shadow.

The cautious side of him unwilling to show himself to them.

The side of him that felt utterly lost and alone in this world unwilling to let them go.

  


* * *

  


There it was again. The soft sound of bare feet upon the earth. 

At first he had believed it to be the sound of a rabbit or an other small animal, but he was sure now that this was not the case. Any small animal would have fled at their passage, but these sounds – so soft they were perhaps sensed more than heard – seemed to be keeping pace with them.

Exchanging another look with his two companions he could read the same conclusion in their eyes. They were being followed.

But who would stalk Rangers in the wilderness?

Certainly, they had more than enough enemies that would wish them harm; orcs, bandits and other mean-spirited men. But none of these enemies would keep to the shadows and trail behind them without attacking. And none of them would be able to follow them so quietly or hide themselves from a Ranger’s senses so well. For even though he could hear, could _feel_ that there was something on their trail, he could not tell where this pursuer may be.

No, this was not one of their usual enemies… A cowardly creature then, one who would wait until they slept to come upon them. Either that or a spy of sorts.

After another ten minutes of being silently hunted they reached a small clearing and he signalled for a stop. Night had since come upon them, and they would spend it here. While they usually preferred to keep to the shelter of the trees when setting up their camp, in this case it would be better to not have their view of their surroundings obscured. Camping in the middle of this clearing would give them an unhindered sight of any who would attempt to approach them during the night.

"No watches tonight." He murmured to his companions. He did not have to explain further for them to understand the plan. No-one would keep an obvious watch; if they wanted to draw out the creature stalking them they all had to appear asleep. But none of them would truly rest either; they would remain wary and watchful throughout the night.

  


* * *

  


Harry was relieved when the men he trailed finally stopped.

He watched as they set up camp in a small clearing. And reluctantly took his eyes of them to find a place to rest of his own. He wanted to stay close, but he was also a bit afraid that they would somehow come across him in the night, when he was asleep and at his most vulnerable. 

He found the perfect place under a very large bush. It was high enough for him to easily creep under and the leaves it had dropped to the floor made for a pleasant enough bed. It was there that he finally succumbed to his exhaustion and fell into a deep, restful sleep.

  


* * *

  


When he awoke the next morning the sun was lazily starting its way up into the sky. Harry crept out from his hiding place and approached the clearing. He carefully looked at the men's camp. And felt his heart fall and his body go numb when he saw that they were gone.

Harry felt dizzy when the realisation hit him. He had lost them. They had already left.

"No…" came the soft, disbelieving whisper from his small lips.

'They can't be gone.' he told himself, childishly denying the sight in front of him. He closed his eyes and opened them once more, wishing for a different result this time.

But, of course, he saw the same.

No men. No horses. No camp. He was all alone again.

He clutched his sea shell and felt a burning in his eyes. 'This is stupid.' Harry told himself harshly, 'I may look like a kid but I don't have to _act_ like one.'

But despite the fact that he furiously tried to squash the childish reaction he could not help it. Once more he was alone in this strange, unknown world. Alone, far away from any signs of life and he had let the only people he had seen in this world slip away. 'I'm not going to cry,' he thought in disgust.

And yet, he could not stop the helpless tears from falling anyway.


	5. Meeting

There had been no disturbance in the night. It had passed without any unusual sounds and there had been no attempted attack or theft.

But even so he could not dismiss the sounds they had heard the previous day as nothing. With an instinct honed from years of roaming the wilds he _knew_ that it had not been his imagination.

They packed up camp, keeping an eye out for movement from the trees. Nothing drew their attention. He nodded to his friends. They would continue. And they would keep their guard up. 

Because like most of his kin, he had learned to trust his instincts.

  


* * *

  


Harry was embarrassed to admit that it had taken him at least ten minutes to dam the flow of tears. He couldn't remember the last time when he had allowed himself to cry and wallow in self-pity. To others ten minutes might not seem so long to pull yourself together. But for Harry it was. He had long since learned that there was no use crying or despairing over the things that happened to him.

So he stood up, trying to shake off the last remnants of hopelessness. 'I'm a Griffindor. I fought the Troll in the ladies' room, the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets and Voldemort himself on a number of occasions. I will _not_ give up this easily.' he told himself resolutely.

And although his little mental pep-talk didn't really make him feel any more confident in this world, he _did_ start walking in the direction - he could clearly tell from the hoof prints - in which the men had gone.

It was a long, long day and unlike the previous ones it was bereft of any laughter. Harry walked, jogged, and sometimes even ran, before tiring and walking again. He only ate the one time that he could clearly spot a bush of berries from the tracks, refusing to actually leave the only signs of human life behind him to search for food in the forest.

Hours passed and the forest that had once felt friendly and free to him now seemed to be imprisoning him – the trees like the bars of a prison, and their shadows pressing down on him from all sides. 

He was far past exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a little ball somewhere and wallow in his misery. But he didn't. He _wouldn't_. He tried with all his might to summon the strength to walk on. He was just so tired and hungry…

And yet, he _did_ find the strength. The stubbornness that had both helped and hindered him throughout his life was on his side this time. It dragged him on, further along the tracks. Until, finally, he thought he heard the sound of voices.

He stood stock-still for a moment, straining his ears, trying to catch the sound again, but there was nothing but the rustling of the trees and the chirping of birds.

'No…' Harry pleaded, desperate for the sound to come again, 'please don't let it have been my imagination.'

For a long moment he listened for any sign that he was not alone anymore. But the forest stayed quiet. Tired, hopeless and completely lost, he almost gave in to the desire to drop down where he stood and give up.

He shook his head, feeling the tears rise up once more. "No!" he cried out, finally giving voice to his despair. He started running, duel desires uniting in his small body; the old Harry was running just to keep moving, to do _something_ – to fight the stupid impulse to cry. But the new, younger part of him was still stuck on the small group of men he had seen earlier – _that_ side of him was asking him 'why? Why did I let them get away?’ That side was telling him that he needed to find them again, somehow. Because he didn't want to be the only person in this world anymore. 

At this moment, it was hard, almost impossible to separate these two different sides of him, because in the end _all_ of him wanted to get out of there – to get out of the forest into the free air in the hopes of finding at least some more sign of civilization.

So he ran, despite his utter weariness, fuelled by both of these powerful impetuses.

And despite his best efforts, without his permission, the tears were flowing again, making their silent way down his cheeks as he let his desperation carry him onwards.

He didn’t notice the trees starting to thin out. Nor did he notice the soft sound of a snorting horse in the distance. So, when he emerged from the forest in a haze of tears, fear and desperation, it took him a few moments to realise this and slow to a halt.

And he was utterly caught of guard when he noticed the small group of men and horses into whose sight he had blindly burst.

  


* * *

  


They heard no more footfalls, the next day on their journey, and after a near entire day of no other sign of their pursuer in the end he put it from his mind.

Out of cautiousness, however, they did set up camp a slight distance from the forest, when they had finally exited it at twilight. This way they would still notice anyone's approach from that direction. On the other hand, it would also make them more easily sighted but with there being three of them with horses and their presence already known, the forest would not keep them concealed even if they sought a less noticeable campsite.

They would not spend another restless night, however. "Thurston, first watch." his friend nodded. "I will take second." he added, leaving Dunnere, the youngest of their company, with the last shift just before the dawn.

No more words were exchanged as they quietly saw to the horses before partaking in their own meal.

The silence was soon disturbed by a distant yell which caused them to rise to their feet, each of them scanning the forest carefully with their eyes.

He drew his sword and took a few cautious steps towards the trees, ready for whatever creature might come at him.

Or so he had believed. Yet when his eyes fell upon the slight form that left the forest at a run he could not help but start in surprise.

'A child?' he wondered with disbelief.

Yes, he affirmed after a moment of silent staring, it was indeed a child that had come upon them. He lowered his sword once the sight before him had sunk in. The child was dark-haired, bare and somewhat dirty. And, now that the small boy had noticed them, he appeared frightened.

"Hello there, little one." He started, slowly sheathing his sword. He tried to appear unthreatening and did not move closer for fear of frightening the young one even further.

The child took a step back at his words, as though by breaking the silence he had also shaken the little boy from the shock of finding them here.

A thought came to him then; had it been this boy that had followed them earlier? If so, why had it not shown himself to them? And why follow them at all? He put those questions aside for now. He would find the answers later.  
The child still regarded them fearfully, remaining near the forest's edge, and he tried to reassure it, holding out his hands before him. "We will not harm you, child." he told the boy, but received no response.

"My name is Halbarad." he introduced himself in a soft, calm voice. "This is Thurston" he gestured gently at the man who had long since put away his own weapon and gave the boy a nod. "And this is Dunnere" he introduced the youngest of their group who responded with a small wave of his hand.

"Can you tell me your name, little one?"

But still, the child stayed silent.

  


* * *

  


'Oh crap.' was Harry's first thought as he looked at the men who regarded him in turn, swords held at the ready. He knew he was probably in trouble, and he mentally cursed his own stupidity.

And yet, despite his lack of wand and in the face of their weapons he _still_ felt an immense amount of relief for having caught up with them. Mingled with the fear of being in deep trouble, but he was comfortingly familiar with _that_. He could handle being in a somewhat dangerous and frightening situation, it was better than the despair of the day.

He was shaken from the shock of suddenly finding himself in a completely different situation by the voice of the man in the front and unconsciously took a step back.

The man had sheathed his sword, he noticed, and the other two had put away their own weapons. The stranger continued talking to him, holding his hands out in front of him in a gesture that Harry had no trouble interpreting. 'And yet, I have no way of knowing if I can trust him.' Still, the man spoke to him in a gentle, calming tone and, Harry deduced from the gestures made, apparently introduced himself, and his companions.

These were all probably good signs.

'With my luck, I almost expected them to attack me on sight.' To be completely honest, there was really no 'almost' about it. He _had_ expected to be immediately attacked or captured by these complete strangers. That they had not done so was also a very good sign.

'So far, so good.' he told himself, hoping that for once his luck would hold.

He noticed that he man had stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly.

Now if only he could understand the language.

  


* * *

  


They stared at each other, boy and man, both uncertain as to how to continue.

Halbarad looked at Thurston, hoping that the older man would have an idea of what to do. He might be the second in command of the Dúnedain and experienced in battle and strategy, but he knew little about how to handle frightened children.

His friend, however, had children of his own. So when Thurston motioned him and Dunnere back to their camp he did so, for he realised that overwhelming the boy would not help the situation at all.

The two Rangers settled down at the campsite, trusting the older man to somehow get the little one to join them.

  


* * *

  


If not for the fact that a small, frightened, unclad child stood before him, looking terribly lost and alone out here in the wild, the look on his commander's face might have been very amusing. He had never seen Halbarad looking so out of his depth.

He took pity on their leader and motioned him and Dunnere away, hoping that the boy might respond better if it were just one person facing him.

"As Halbarad said," he started in a confidant but soothing voice. "My name is Thurston."

A moment of silence followed.

"Are you lost, child?" the man continued, gently.

But once more the boy would not answer.

'Perhaps he is a mute.' Thurston thought, 'or perhaps he is too frightened of us to speak.' It did not matter. Either way they could not just leave him here.

"We were starting our evening meal when you came upon us, little one." he gestured to his companions who were sitting at their campsite, pretending not to pay attention to their interaction.

"Will you join us?" he tried, this time waiting very patiently for the child to respond.

  


* * *

  


It was clear from his gestures what the man wanted, and Harry was torn as to what to do. Should he attempt to flee, back into the forest he had been so desperate to escape only moments before? The man remained where he was, patiently waiting for him to make a move. Somehow this reassured him. He took a small step towards the grimy man with the kind smile, just to see what he would do.

The stranger did not react and Harry felt it safe to take another step forward, and then another, never taking his eyes of the man in front of him.

A few more steps and he felt like he had come close enough. The man seemed to notice his hesitation to come closer because he slowly walked back to the camp, settling himself next to the other men and picking up what looked like a strip of meat.

Harry hesitantly moved closer, less fearful now that they had moved their attention to their food.

Perhaps it would be alright if he joined them for dinner. He was hungry, after all.

He took a few more steps towards the men and silently sat down next to, and just out of arms reach of, the oldest one of them, the one who had invited him to join them. That is, if Harry had interpreted the man's behaviour and gestures correctly.

Sitting down so near to these strangers he suddenly felt very exposed. And he was _very_ embarrassed to remember that he was naked.

He had actually stopped noticing his nakedness over the past days; his new body didn't feel cold as easily and he had been walking around like this for so long that he had actually forgotten. Perhaps it was the childish part of him that hadn't really cared about his lack of clothing while running around in the woods?

Now, though, faced with these strangers he felt embarrassed and very vulnerable. The lack of a wand, and not to mention the lack of _height_ were bad enough but he was even without any clothes.

All he had was the little seashell and he was now very glad that he had brought it with him. It wouldn't help him in the least but it did make him feel slightly comforted.

'Perhaps,' the irrelevant thought crossed his mind 'this is how children feel about their favourite stuffed toy?' Growing up with the Dursleys he had never really had one of his own, but he remembered seeing other children with a stuffed animal on many occasions when he went out with his relatives, to the supermarket for example. Even Dudley, he recalled vaguely, used to have an absolute favourite amongst his little army of plush animals.

Harry was shaken from his musings by the feel of fabric softly setting around his shoulders.

Startled by the sudden sensation he snapped back from his memories to the here and now. The man next to him had come uncomfortably close and had placed his cloak around Harry's shoulders. He tensed up, getting ready to run if need be. But the man settled back and made no other sudden movements and after a long moment Harry relaxed the slightest bit.

'That was stupid.' he scolded himself. 'I have to be more alert than that.'

  


* * *

  


Now that the boy had finally reached them, after a long, cautious approach, Thurston could finally examine him more closely. The boy had dark hair, reaching to just above his shoulder, framing a delicate face. The child's eyes were of a brighter green than he had ever found in anyone's eyes before today.

An oddly shaped scar stood out on the boy's forehead and the Ranger thoughtfully considered what could have been its cause. With this closer examination he now noticed the tear-tracks on the child's face and felt his heart swell with pity.

The boy was obviously lost. But how had he gotten out here, all by himself, so far from any settlement? And where did he come from?

He abandoned these thoughts for the moment when he noticed the child hunch down, possibly from the cold. So he took off his own cloak, before carefully moving closer to the boy.

In contrast to the child's earlier cautiousness and fear, he did not even seem to be aware of him, as Thurston came closer, until the feel of the cloak alerted him to the man's presence.

He was careful not to startle the child further and slowly retreated to his earlier position.

When he noticed the tension leave the boy's limbs, he slowly took a piece of bread from his pack. The child's eyes had not left him since his earlier action and followed his every movement now. He made eye-contact with the child and carefully held out the food to him, as though he was feeding a very skittish animal. 

The boy did not move for a long moment and he could almost feel the dark-haired youngster weight the possibility in his mind. In the end his patience was rewarded when the child carefully took the piece of bread from him.

He gave the boy another compassionate smile and was gratified when he received a small, sweet smile in return.

  


* * *

  


Harry gratefully ate the bread one of the men had given him. He still did not know who they were, though he was sure he had been given their names somewhere in the incomprehensible talk earlier. For now it didn’t really matter.

He finished the piece and glanced at the men, unsure of what to do now. He couldn’t speak with them and had no way of knowing where they were going or what they would do with him.

Maybe it would be best to leave before it was too late. They had been kind to him so far, but there was no telling if that would last.

And yet, he didn’t _want_ to leave. He remembered how he had felt during the day, when he had believed that he had lost these people and that he was completely alone again in this strange world. That hopelessness and desperation wasn‘t something he wanted to feel again. Now that he had found these men again, the only people that he had seen in this world, he couldn’t just _leave_.

Besides, he rationalised, there was no telling if he even _could_ escape them if he tried now. There were three of them after all, and he was just one and very small. 'For now I might as well wait and see where this is going.' he told himself.

His food finished and his decision made, he wrapped himself in the large, worn cloak and lay down where he sat, completely worn out from the physical and emotional trials of the day.

And despite the fact that he was alone, unarmed and completely defenceless amongst these three heavily armed strangers, he fell asleep without any trouble at all, his face buried in the warmth and comfort of the cloak and with a small, relieved smile on his face.


	6. Of Strangers, Smiles, Steeds and Stares

For the first time in days Harry did not wake up on his own account. The strange conundrum of rough hands shaking him gently awake had him quickly returning to wakefulness. He found himself lying on his side, a large, wide cloak wrapped all around him.

The man who had shook him backed away when he noticed Harry turning his head in his direction and told him something Harry couldn’t understand with a smile. He figured it might have been 'good morning' or something along those lines but had no way to know for sure.

Harry sat up, quietly assessing his situation.

The man who had woken him up was the same one who had first tried to talk to him, yesterday. From the way he had stood in front of the others with his sword raised when Harry had come upon them, and from the fact that he had taken charge by talking to him first the young wizard recognized that he was probably the leader of this little group.

Other than him there was the somewhat older man who had given him his cloak and one who was clearly younger than the other two.

Now that he could see the men more closely and in the full light of day he noticed that they all wore earth-tinted, dirt-stained clothing and leather boots, and carried even more weapons than he had previously noticed. Besides the bows, quivers and swords he could also discern a knife handle peeking slightly out of one of the leader's boots.

He carefully examined all three of them, but couldn't really infer much from their appearance and manner. When his eyes rested on the one who had given him the cloak and food the previous night, the man looked up, turning to Harry from where he had been tending to his horse, apparently feeling his gaze.

The man slowly approached him and another piece of bread was offered to him, as well as a waterskin, and accompanied by another kind smile that should have seemed out of place on such a weathered face – but somehow didn’t.

Harry accepted both and watched curiously as the men cleared their campsite – leaving no trace of their presence behind.

He wondered what would happen to him now. Would they leave him here? He felt slightly alarmed at the thought. Now that he thought about it, there was a good chance that they would. These men _were_ complete strangers and they owed him nothing. If it were the Dursleys who had found him like this they would have left him behind with no further thought.

Then again, he had long since discovered that not _everyone_ was like the Dursleys. Why, if it was Hagrid who had come across a child on his travels, he would have taken it along on whatever errand he would be running, of that Harry had no doubt. And Remus wouldn't have left an unknown kid behind, all on his own, he was sure. Harry, himself, wouldn't leave a child to fend for himself in the middle of nowhere either.

But these men were unknown to him. He had no idea what they would do and that made him feel very uncertain.

'It doesn't matter.' he tried to convince himself. 'They don't _have_ to take me along, I'll be alright on my own. I don't need them. I don't even _know_ them.'

But they were the only people he had seen since arriving here. And a very large part of him didn’t want to be parted from them.

He closed the waterskin and stood up, trying to distract himself from these thoughts. Holding the cloak closed around him, he carefully approached the man who had given him both that and the waterskin. He was granted another smile and a cluster of unknown words when he returned the second of these, and Harry gave an uncertain smile in reply, hoping that whatever it was that the man had said did not require a verbal answer.

As the men started saddling their horses, Harry got more and more nervous.

He wrapped himself even more tightly in the man's cloak, feeling somewhat lost at what to do. He felt like he should be telling them something, that he should somehow try to convince them to let him come with them. But they would not understand him, and even if they did, he didn't have the slightest idea what to say.

Once more he wished for his wand and with that thought suddenly remembered his shell. Where did it go? He had it just yesterday.

He frantically cast his eyes around until they finally rested on the place that he had slept.

'There it is.' he thought as he quickly moved back towards his former spot, and he felt an absurd amount of relief when he picked it up. With the little white seashell once more held safely in one of his hands he felt a little bit better. And he was even more grateful for the familiar comfort when the oldest of the group approached him once more.

He didn't know what it was the man told him, but from the way he gestured Harry over to his horse he felt safe in the knowledge that they did not plan to leave him here. He felt a wave of relief wash over him when he realised that.

The dark brown horse was a large, powerful animal but Harry wasn't really afraid of it. Although he had never ridden a horse before, he _had_ ridden a broom, a hippogriff, and that Thestral in his fifth year. After all the wondrous creatures he had seen a horse did not really seem all too impressive even at his current height (which, incidentally, _did_ make the horse look very large).

The man beside him told him something else before he very slowly put his hands on Harry's waist. Despite the fact that he could easily see it coming, he barely suppressed a flinch when he felt the man hold him and lift him onto the animal.

He had little time to accustom himself to his new perch before the stranger swung himself up behind Harry. The man took the reigns, his arms on either side of Harry and started the horse in motion.

With one hand clutching his sea shell and the other clasping 'his' cloak he wasn't sure if he was glad for the extra security of the pair of arms at his sides or not.

Eventually, after crossing many miles in such a manner, Harry relaxed a little bit and allowed himself a small smile.

This wasn't so bad.

He started looking around him at this new world. While he had liked the forest those first two days, it was nice to be out here in the open now. He could see much further around him and noticed for the first time the mountains in the distance to their left, and the river closer by. He could spot another river in the distance to his right and a wide grassland laid spread out before him. Even with his new eyesight and un-obscured view, he could see no cities or other people but now that he was not on his own anymore this did not worry him overly much.

The sun was warm and there was only a gentle breeze. This, along with the flowers, butterflies and abundant green in the forest made Harry believe that it was probably summertime here.

Though it took him a while to get used to it, he found himself actually liking the movement of the horse beneath him. It wasn't as ecxiting as flying, of course, but it was still sort of nice.

To his relief none of the men tried to speak with him during their ride. And, hours later, when they stopped a little while for lunch they did not try to engage him in conversation either.

The break was a short one, though, and before he knew it he was back on the horse, once more observing this new world from a higher perspective.

  


* * *

  


At nightfall, however, the gentle serenity finally broke.

It shouldn't have really surprised him; in fact it didn't, not really. Harry knew his luck was bound to run out sometime soon. But he would have expected something a little more… obvious. As it was, though, he had no idea what had actually happened.

He wasn't exactly sure _why_ these men that had seemed so calm and kind suddenly became so agitated, though he _was_ sure it had to do with him.

They'd shown him a lot of patience so far, perhaps it had finally run out? Maybe they were angry that he didn’t talk to them? Or maybe they were just tired of his presence?

No, that didn’t seem to fit what he had seen of these men. The change in demeanour was too sudden and complete for that. Something had shocked them, but what?

He thought back at the last few moments. What had caused this?

Their little group had stopped to rest for the night, and while two of them busied themselves with their horses and making camp, the third, their leader, had tried to talk to him once more.

Obviously with no success, since Harry couldn't understand a word the man said.

When the man had apparently given up, again, he’d sat down opposite Harry and started digging in his pack, presumably for food. The other men had finished their tasks by now and came over to join them. The man he’d ridden with sat down to his right while the other moved across from him to sit beside the leader.

Then, suddenly, the man that he was most acquainted with let out an exclamation, followed by another string of words that meant absolutely nothing to Harry. To the others, however, the words did seem to hold meaning, a shocking meaning apparently since they joined their friend in staring at Harry in disbelief.

And though the disbelief was now slowly fading from their eyes, a thoughtfulness replaced it that made him feel no more comfortable to be the object of their stares.

But _why_ were they looking at him like that? What where they saying to each other?

And then, suddenly, he understood what had surprised them about him; his ears! They were looking at his ears! The man who had sat down next to him had finally noticed their new, pointy shape.

Due to all the more important changes; such as being a child again and being in a completely different world, Harry had pushed all the other changes to the back of his mind. His ears, his newfound agility and gracefulness in walking, those things he had just brushed of as a side-effect of coming here in the body of a child or as having something to do with that Eldar-bloodline that those voices had gone on about.

But now these strangers had noticed. 'I can't believe I was so careless.' he told himself 'I should have been more careful, kept them hidden. Now they will probably leave me here.' They would have no reason to let him tag along now that they knew he wasn't _normal_ , maybe not even _human_.

And he couldn't just tell them that he hadn't even had such pointy ears until just a few days ago. They would never believe it. Well, that and he _couldn't_ tell them, since he didn't know their language.

He had known all along; his luck really _was_ that horrible.

  


* * *

  


After the startling revelation it took Halbarad a long moment to reign in his shock. When he finally did he realised that the child had not taken their reaction as a good sign. He cursed himself, and shoved the disbelief at discovering the boy to be an _elven_ child aside, for now.

He summoned up a smile for the little one and resolutely returned to what he had been doing before this surprising discovery. Reaching into his bag he withdrew from it their evening meal. He carefully held some out to the boy, and though the child appraised him silently for a long, long moment, the young elf did accept it.

Thurston and Dunnere seemed to have received his unspoken message to continue on as if nothing at occurred, though he could tell from the frequent glances Dunnere shot the boy that it was a difficult thing for the younger of the two to do.

He could not blame the man, for he himself was just as shocked.

For how was it possible that the child they had found was an elfling? What would an elvish child be doing so far from any elven settlement? And how could one have gotten so far from his home without his people retrieving him?

He knew that elves were very protective of their young. Even thought he had never seen an elfling, he had heard that it was so. And from the protectiveness and care that he had perceived Lord Elrond's sons bestow upon Aragorn even now, after having come into adulthood, he certainly did not doubt it.

So how could an elfling have ended up here, so far in the wild, and all on its own?

He could think of no answer to that question, and realised now that he would not receive it either from the child. Previously he had thought that after getting used to their presence the boy would start to trust and speak to them but now he knew that it was not just fear that stayed the young one's tongue. 'The child probably can't even understand us,' it dawned on him.

How then, could they get the little one to trust them, if they could not even speak with him? How could they make him understand that he needed to stay with them, that they only meant to lead him home? So far the child had accompanied them but Halbarad could easily perceive that the child still remained somewhat reticent, even fearful at times, there was no telling if the elfling would deign to stay with them.

And where should they take him? When he had believed the child to be human he had decided to take the child along with them until they reached the closest nearby settlement. But now, knowing that the child was a child of the Eldar, there was no way that they could leave him in a human village.

The only elven settlement that Halbarad had ever been to was Rivendell, but that was still many leagues from here, almost twice as far as Bree. The only elven habitation closer than that was the Grey Havens, but to reach it they would have to take the long way around the southern part of the Blue Mountains, making the journey only the least bit shorter.

No, it would be better to aim for Rivendell, but keep to the course they had planned before meeting up with the elf-child. They could still meet Aragorn at the appointed place for their report and their Chieftain, in turn would be able to communicate with the child.

If luck was at their side, the little one would not stray from them in the time it would take for them to reach the Greenway, where they had arranged to meet.

He silently prayed to the Valar that their luck would indeed hold.

He would hate to have to explain to his Chieftain how he had let an elven child wander the wild alone.

He did not even want to _consider_ the possibility of having to explain the self-same to Aragorn's brothers. No, he would keep a careful watch on the elfling and not let it stray. For he had witnessed the battle-rage of the twins on several occasions and shuddered to think of being subject to their ire.

Halbarad looked over to the subject of his thoughts and smiled when he saw that the little one had fallen asleep in the mean time.

For a long time the three Rangers remained as they were, silently regarding their unusual and unexpected charge who, wrapped in the large cloak of one of them, slumbered on, now oblivious to their gazes.

A moment passed, and then another while each of them remained lost in their own thoughts - before Dunnere finally broke the silence and asked the questions on all of their minds; "How could an elvish child end up so far in the wild and where would it have come from?"

But, although they discussed it in soft voices until deep into the night, none of the Rangers could find the answers to those questions and in the end two of them retreated to their bedrolls to rest, while the third remained, watchful of his surroundings as ever, but a small part of his mind still dedicated to the mystery sleeping peacefully before him.


	7. Journey

Harry wasn't sure what he expected to happen, when he woke up the next morning, but he did expect _something_ to have changed.

The kind smiles and offered food did not lessen, however. And yet, despite that, he found himself wondering once more if these men would leave him here. They had given no indication that they would do so, but considering his past experiences and the discovery the men had made last night he didn't dare hope that they would actually… still take him along, despite his _abnormality_.

His fears were quickly diffused when the man he had ridden with the day before again lifted him onto the horse. With a soft kick to the animal's flanks they were crossing the extensive open land before them once more. And, though it may have been his imagination, it seemed to Harry that the men had urged their steeds to do so at a faster pace than the day before.

Harry let his apprehension about the men's reaction to his ears lay to rest for now and enjoyed the ride over the open country, straining his head in every direction to view more of this world and enjoying the soft breeze caressing his face and hair.

When they stopped to pause at lunchtime, Harry felt his anxiety return. He didn’t think they would leave him behind now (if they wanted to leave him, they would have done so this morning) but he was still completely unsure of these people's reaction to his ears.

Their treatment of them, however, didn’t really change. They still smiled at him, rattled off gibberish at him and provided him with water and food. He started to relax a bit in their presence and, after their mid-day meal, he finally learned the names of his companions.

Apparently it had dawned on them that he couldn't understand them at all, and they introduced themselves now with nothing more than a hand on their chest and a name, which they repeated a few times for him.

He nodded to show that he understood and mentally put the names and faces together, but neither did he repeat the names, nor did he offer his own in return.

A part of him felt guilty for not trusting them with who he was, especially since they had been nothing but kind to him so far. And yet, it was hard to just throw of the reluctance he had long since acquired about giving his name to anyone who did not already know who he was. He had too many bad experiences linked to who and what he was; the Dursley's, Snape, the entire school during the whole 'heir of Slytherin' and 'Second Tri-wizard Champion' debacles, the hate, fear and scorn he had been subjected to by all of them were linked to who and what he was. Certainly there were also those who practically worshipped him for being their 'saviour' but he hated _that_ just as much, perhaps even more.

And, although there should be no way for these men in a _different world_ to know who he was even if he gave them his name, he could not help but feel hesitant to tell them. To them he was a stranger, they did not notice the significance of his scar. He _liked_ it that way.

Once, when he had a similar chance of anonymity in his own world, he had fooled Stan, the conductor of the Knight Bus, into believing his name to be Neville (which was how the man had kept calling him even _after_ he had been revealed as Harry).

But contrary to then he really didn’t want to _lie_ to them, and yet, he didn’t want to these men the truth either. So instead of giving his name or a fake one in its stead he just remained silent.

The men did not appear to be offended by his unfriendly behaviour but he knew that looks could be deceiving. They might have just concealed it.

They soon continued on their journey, and Harry was now indeed sure that they were travelling a lot faster than the day before. 

And, as the day turned to night and they stopped once more, it also became clear to Harry that they really weren't angry about his reserve. He sighed in relief, glad that they weren't too easily offended, and slept peacefully through the night.

  


* * *

  


Days passed in much the same manner and Harry became more and more used to the men in whose company he had landed.

He had gotten a shirt from Halbarad that was even _larger_ on him than Dudley shirts had ever been. The thought amused him now, though thinking about it had always made him feel somewhat ashamed before.

Back then the overly large shirts were a sign of his family's disregard for him and had made him feel very self-conscious of the fact that he was shown as being… undeserving, _worthless_ to the rest of the world. 

He had learned that he _wasn't_ worthless over the years - no matter what the Dursleys told him. Ron and Hermione's friendships and the motherly warmth of Molly Weasley along with the feeling of welcome that the rest of the Weasleys had always made him feel - they had taken away from these beliefs. And while the shame and pain of being unloved and unwanted by his _own_ family had always remained, it had become far more bearable.

Now, amongst these people who he hardly knew and who he could barely communicate with, the reminder wasn't as painful as it might have been. The Dursleys may have given him those large clothes as a discourtesy, but these men actually welcomed him amongst them, despite all barriers between them. Thurston had let him use his cloak out of _compassion_ and Halbarad had given him a shirt out of _kindness_ , and though it was not really that much of a big deal, somehow it made him feel… comforted and happy.

So, clothed in an overly large shirt and even larger cloak, with his seashell still in his possession he felt, despite the ridiculous picture that he must make, safer and more welcome than he had since coming to this world. His worries and fears faded and he allowed himself to relax a bit in the presence of his companions.

The child in him was fully enjoying the rush of wind he felt when the horses sped up just a bit faster and finding the same freedom and happiness in these surroundings as he had in the forest. He basked in this feeling, letting it engulf him as they crossed the wide-spread land before them and it did not leave him even when they stopped, at the banks of the wide, clear river that for much of their journey had been visible on his right.

  


* * *

  


Halbarad looked at the child in shock when, for the first time in the four days that the elfling had now been travelling with them, he heard the sound of the child's musical voice.

The soft, innocent laughter of the little elf floated out over the grassland and river and he could not help but smile at the sight of the little one's splashing close to the banks of the Brandywine River and was glad that they had taken a break there, though at the time the decision to bend off to the river had been made more with regard of the horses and refilling their waterskins than the playful bathing of the little boy.

From his position a bit further upstream from where the child was bathing Halbarad had a clear view of everything transpiring further down; Dunnere had been keeping an eye on the horses while they drank but was now completely distracted by the elven laughter. His youngest companion had never met an elf before the little one and seemed utterly captivated. 

Halbarad sighed and walked to the horses, having finished filling the waterskins. He shot the man a look as he passed him but did not comment. There was no real danger here, but becoming distracted could prove fatal to a Ranger in a more dangerous area.

Dunnere met his eyes and received the warning look with a nod, while young he was no fool and he interpreted the message without it needing to be said. The man turned back to the horses, but kept an ear out to where the young one was bathing on Thurston's watch.

Halbarad patted the younger man on the shoulder and moved to their packs, putting away the water. The horses were rested and watered and their own water refilled.

They could be on their way now.

He turned his gaze back to the river, his eyes easily drawn to the large form of Thurston and the small, lively form of the boy.

Since finding out that the child in their care was an elfling, Halbarad had sped up their travel, wanting to reach their Chieftain as soon as possible, hoping that perhaps Aragorn would be there early or otherwise nearby enough for him to find. He had been anxious to find someone actually capable of speaking with the child.

But, though they still needed to reach Aragorn swiftly, the appointed time would do, Halbarad felt now.

Despite the barriers of race and language, the elfling was starting to become more at ease in their presence and the ranger was sure now that the child would not suddenly bolt from them.

So he sat back upon the banks of the Brandywine and allowed the sounds of splashes and laughter to wash over him.

They could rest for just a little bit longer.


	8. Meeting at the Greenway

It was nearing mid-day when they reached the spot where they were to meet their Chieftain. Halbarad could immediately tell that Aragorn had not yet arrived, but that was no cause for worry. They had arrived early.

The three Dúnedain set up a small camp near the Greenway. From where they settled themselves, the splitting of the once great road was still visible but they were hidden enough that they would not be easily seen from the road. Their Chieftain, Halbarad knew, would have no problem spotting them. Especially since their keen-eyed leader already knew that they would be there.

  


* * *

  


Harry was surprised when, after having eaten and rested they didn’t immediately continue on their journey. In fact, they remained at their little campsite for hours and he found himself whishing he knew their language, just so that he could ask them _why_.

For days now they had let the horses carry them further and further from the forest he had first seen these men in. And after a while, Harry had easily settled into the rhythm of riding, resting, riding and sleeping before doing the same all over again the next day. Now that the rhythm had finally been broken he suddenly realised he still had no idea where they were travelling _to_. And, now that he was finally conscious that this was a _journey_ , with an end, he was getting anxious. Where _were_ they going? And, more importantly, what would happen to him when they got there?

He had become accustomed to the company of these men and despite the fact that he couldn’t even speak to them and knew very little about them he actually found himself liking them. Every one of them were always willing to share with him their own food and water, they smiled at him and always spoke to him in kind and patient tones and though he didn’t know what their words meant it still made him feel welcome.

This was more than he had been given when he had been a child the first time around and he was afraid that he would lose it when their journey ended.

So a large part of him didn’t _want_ the journey to end. 

He stood up from where he had been sitting, and walked over to the animal that had carried him this far. He knew he couldn't just jump on and make his companions continue the journey but he was tempted to somehow try it anyway.

Harry reined in that irrational urge and busied himself petting the large horse, letting that repetitive action and the animal's soft breathing drain some of his nervous energy. For a long moment he remained softly stroking the horse, until his anxiousness eventually abated and he closed his eyes and softly leaned his head against the animal, letting the presence of the steed that he had ridden for days soothe him.

He stayed like that for a long moment - until a sound he had become very familiar with while in this world broke through his silent worries.

A horse's hoof beats.

His head snapped up and he looked to the road where, in the far distance he saw a single rider make its way towards them.

  


* * *

  


Thurston watched in concern as he saw the child become more and more agitated. He wasn't exactly sure what was bothering the little one. Perhaps he was getting bored due to the long stop? 

But no, that did not seem to fit the young one. While he knew little of elf kind and even less about elven children he had gotten to know the boy a bit during their travels; he was very shy and reserved for a child, though Thurston did not know if that was usual for an elfling or not, and he was also very easy to handle. The child never complained, fussed or drew attention to himself. He asked for nothing, nor did he even _attempt_ to, and made no trouble. He also easily amused himself.

If the child were to get bored Thurston would have expected it to be during their many hours of travel, not _now_ while being able to stretch his legs or play for awhile.

He saw the child get up and move over to the horses. He tensed, though he knew not why, getting ready to interfere if the child somehow scared the animals off or tried to ride one by himself.

Nothing happened, however, and he saw the elfling take comfort in petting his steed so he settled back again, still keeping a discreet eye on their young charge. This was why he immediately noticed when, a long moment later, the boy's head shot up and turned to the road. Had the child heard someone coming? The ears of the elves were very sensitive to sound so he thought it best to take heed of this behaviour.

He stood up and moved closer to the road, eyes scanning the two directions that the ancient road split off in. His hand found his sword, resting there with a cautious tension as he sought with all his senses for that which had drawn the elven child's attention.

  


* * *

  


Halbarad got to his feet when Thurston did, not sure what had alarmed the man but trusting the other Ranger's senses and instincts as well as his own. He saw Dunnere follow their lead and a heartbeat later all three of them were close to the road and ready to defend themselves, and their little companion, if need be.

For a while there was nothing, before the sight of a distant rider met his eyes. They stood ready as the man came nearer and once he finally recognized the rider as their Chieftain he relaxed his guard a little, letting his hand leave the hilt of his sword and allowing a small welcoming smile to come to his face.

He greeted their leader warmly, once the man was close enough, and waited only for him to descend from his horse before telling him of the boy they had come across in Eryn Vorn. He watched as Aragorn's eyes slid to where the child still stood a distance away by their horses, before returning to his own.

"This child was out alone in the wild? There was no-one else near?"

Halbarad shook his head. "But there is more, Aragorn," he started "The boy is of elven kind."

  


* * *

  


"The child is of elven kind."

Aragorn's first instinctive reaction to that was to dismiss it as a mistake.

But then, Halbarad had met more elves than most men, though that did not mean much. He had on occasion been a part of the company of the sons of Elrond and had once come with Aragorn and his brothers to Rivendell. Halbarad would not make such a claim lightly, and he spoke as if he were completely sure.

And yet, it was impossible, so a mistake it must be.

It was a true dilemma but there was fortunately an easy way to ascertain his friend's claim.

He turned away from his men to take a closer look at the subject of their discussion and found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. It took him a long moment to break free from the gaze and examine the child further; the boy looked even smaller than he probably was, standing so close to the towering large brown horse that he knew to be Thurston's. He was clad in a shirt that was obviously far too large for him and coupled with the long cloak it made for a strange but adorable sight.

Aragorn noticed the dark, silky locks and the young, delicate face it framed and found his doubt steadily lessening. The child's features _did_ look very elflike. When the Ranger's gaze slid over the scar on the child's forehead he started, wondering where and when the child had been hurt thusly and whether it had been a deliberate harm or an accident. Those thoughts were momentarily diverted when his eyes finally found the irrefutable proof of the young one's heritage; one pointy ear was visible from in between the dark locks of the child's hair.

Aragorn was more learned than most, due to his growing up under the tutelage of Lord Elrond. And he had seen many wondrous or strange sights during both his time in Rivendell and his time as a Ranger in the North. But the current revelation was such a shocking, bewildering, _impossible_ one that he could not help but feel completely overwhelmed by its potency.

If only for a moment.

The moment passed and he tried to gather himself.

He had confronted many terrible enemies and had stood before beings of great power and importance. But to find himself so unexpectedly faced with a child of the Eldar…

He swallowed and slowly moved closer to where the child was observing him carefully in turn. The elfling seemed apprehensive so he stopped a short distance away and kneeled before the youngest elf he had ever seen. To his knowledge, no elfling had been born in Arda for over two thousand years… and yet, the sight in front of him could not be denied.

"Mae govannen, hên" he spoke in a soft, gentle tone, trying to keep the thoughts rushing through his mind and the feelings swirling through his soul at bay. It would not do to scare the little one off now.

The elfling looked at him in surprise, probably because had not been expecting a greeting in his own tongue, before giving him a small smile. "Suilad" the sweetest of voices answered him, making an answering smile blossom on his own face.

  


* * *

  


Harry was worried when he noticed the stranger approach him. It was obvious from the reactions of Halbarad and the others that this man was supposedly a friend of them. But that did not mean he was a friend of _his_.

It was more than just a fear for his safety from the heavily armed man that made him so apprehensive. It was also the fear of what would happen to him if this man disliked or despised him. Would the men he had travelled with leave him behind then?

The stranger stopped a few paces in front of him and, to Harry's surprise, kneeled down to his own level. He observed the man more closely now and noticed that he was clothed in much the same manner as the other men. More than just his clothing he was also very similar to Harry's companions in an other way, though it was not easy for Harry to put a finger on what it was. Perhaps it was something in their manner? Or in how the grim, battle-hardened and worn outward appearance of these men covered gentle voices and kind smiles? Whatever it was, this man had it too. And somehow, Harry found that immensely reassuring though there was no rational or tangible reason behind it.

And indeed, when the man spoke his voice was soft and kind. More than that, though. It was in a language Harry had no trouble understanding. 

He froze for a moment, caught in surprise, and looked deeper into the grey eyes of the man in front of him. He found in those eyes the same warmth and welcome as he had found in Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere.

He smiled at the man, suddenly feeling more shy than scared, and answered him with a soft 'hello' that came out in an entirely different language.

  


* * *

  


He had not spoken much with the new man that joined their company (who had introduced himself to Harry as 'Estel'). But he had learned that speaking this language was much like speaking Parseltongue. He could somehow instinctively understand it and when he was spoken to in the language he automatically replied in it as well.

The man had gently questioned him about who he was, were he lived, who his parents are and how he had ended up all by himself. Now that Harry could _finally_ actually speak to someone he might have told them his story. But what would he tell them? What _could_ he tell them? His story was strange and no matter how accepting these people were, telling it would probably end with him branded as either a liar or a lunatic.

So he remained mostly silent, once in a while answering some of the queries with a soft 'I got lost' or 'I don't know.'

Though he found himself liking the stranger he also felt very uncertain around him. This was someone who could speak a language he could communicate in. And while it was an immense relief to know that there were people here, in this world, that could understand him, it also made him uncomfortable around the man. This man could actually ask him questions and Harry didn’t know what answers he could give.

Torn between happiness and apprehension at this new revelation, Harry sighed and turned his attention back outward, to the newest member of their little group.

The stranger, Estel, had walked a few paces away from him to discuss something with Halbarad, Thurston and Dunnere. Harry quietly observed them, and it surprised him to find out that this new man actually seemed to be more the leader than Halbarad was, if their behaviour was any indication. It was very subtle, though, even more so than the leadership Halbarad himself held over Thurston and Dunnere. The only reason Harry was even able to discern it was because he had already spent a few days in the presence of the three of them and had noticed the way in which Halbarad himself led the other two. Dunnere and Thurston turned to him only when a decision had to be made and, besides those few moments, the three of them seemed complete equals. But this newcomer held all of his companions’ attention and respect just by his presence alone – he wore nothing to signify that he was in any way more important than the others, but it was there, not only in Estel’s bearing, but in the other men’s eyes. 

The men's conversation did not last more than twenty minutes and to Harry's surprise the men started packing up their belongings and reading their horses right away.

"Little one," he heard the man called Estel say as he approached him, "we are riding to Imladris," the man kindly informed him, and, although Harry did not know who, where or what that was, he appreciated the effort.

He nodded to the man, deciding to keep that question to himself for now. Perhaps he would ask the man a later when he felt more sure of him. For now it was probably best to pretend he knew what was going on. For all he knew it was an obvious destination that everyone knew about.

The man knelt slightly before him again and gave him one of those smiles that Harry had received often from his travelling companions. It was a smile filled with nothing but kindness and care, and though he should have become accustomed to it by now, somehow it always made him start, just a little, to see that look bestowed on him. 

Especially from men like these, because there was something cautious and rough about them: about Halbarad, Thurston, Dunnere and now Estel. He could tell that they were fighters, that they knew war and death as intimately as Harry did - perhaps even more so, because where the young wizard was more accustomed to magic spells flung from a distance, these men dealt out death and received it with swords and knives and perhaps their own hands. And still, for all that they seemed far more capable with weapons than anyone he had ever met, for all that there was an air of sombreness about them and quiet strength – there was also a gentleness that Harry didn’t think would be often shown by someone like that. But it was given to him freely, whenever he turned to face them, and it made him feel strangely warm every time.

"Will you ride with me, child?" Estel asked, and Harry wavered, somewhat unsure. He might have preferred the familiarity and silence of Thurston but that would be rather impolite to say. This person was (as far as he could tell) the leader of their little group and he did not want to insult him. Besides, like the other three men, he actually found himself liking the rough appearance, warm eyes and gentle manner of Estel. So he nodded again, too shy and uncertain to speak.

  


* * *

  


Estel smiled at the elfling and lifted him carefully upon his horse. "Then let us be on our way," he said softly and he signalled his men with a wave of his hand before he took to the road. With a child amongst them it would be better to use the remains of the North-South Road than to risk the dangers of the wild. So instead of aiming directly for Rivendell they would first go to the village of Bree. There they could restock their supplies and spend the night at the inn before continuing on their journey.

Their course decided, the company of Dúnedain set out, riding swiftly on the over-grown and neglected road until the day's end.

They stopped late in the evening, wanting to reach the village of Bree well before nightfall the next day so that they would not be refused entry. The Bree-folk had always been a bit suspicious of their wandering people and if they reached the gate only at sunset there was every chance that the gate-keeper would not let them in.

Thankfully they had made good time today and Aragorn was sure that they would be able to reach Bree well before the eve. He patted the horse, glad for the strength of the elvish steed. Unlike his companions' horses it had been allowed little time to rest during mid-day when he had met up with the other Rangers. Nor did he need it; Baran had been a gift from his brothers and had had no trouble carrying both him and the young elfling.

Aragorn looked at the young one that he had met so unexpectedly. The child was seated by Thurston, whom he had apparently taken a liking to despite the barrier of language, and was silently eating his fill. It was not long after that until the child tired and succumbed to a restful sleep, under their watchful eyes.

They, as Rangers, laboured to keep safe and free the people in the North. But the duty they had taken upon themselves _now_ was much more direct, and much more rewarding. For the moment they would watch over this lost little one and they would return him safely to the care of the elves. Each of these Rangers was resolved in his own quiet way to protect the young one in their care as fiercely as they had guarded these lands, for as long as the child was theirs to protect.


	9. Bree

Harry was still tired when a voice called him awake. In his somewhat sleepy haze he almost thought it was Remus, though the man had never actually had to wake him, but the voice wasn't quite right. But then, he was sure that it wasn't Ron or any of the other Weasleys. And it definitely wasn't Aunt Petunia's screeching voice.

The strangeness of the whole situation made him blink awake despite his desire to sleep a little bit longer and he found himself once more returned to reality. 'Oh, right. I'm not _there_ anymore.' The thought brought both a pang of loss and relief with it.

Harry didn't want to dwell on either of those feelings and pushed them both away.

He sat up, accepting the smiles, unknown words that he was actually starting to somewhat recognize as the same greeting he had gotten each morning, and food offered by the men. The 'good morning, little one' he received in a language he could actually _understand_ was new and he turned his head to face the man who had only joined them yesterday. "Good morning" he softly returned to Estel before ducking his head and busying himself with his breakfast. He had just enough time to finish it and grab his little seashell before he was once more lifted onto a horse.

This time Harry found himself riding with Thurston again. The familiarity of the situation relaxed him, and the previous late night had tired him out (that probably had something to do with having a child's body) so, though he tried to fight it at first, in the end he figured it would do no harm and gave in to his sleepiness. He allowed himself to lean against the by now familiar man and let his mind drift away. He only vaguely heard Thurston call something to the others, and he did not feel it as the horse slowed down a bit as he gave in to slumber once more.

  


* * *

  


Aragorn was immediately on guard when he heard Thurston call out to them to slow down a bit. He turned to the man to find out what was wrong and relaxed when he noticed that there was no danger or harm. He smiled, looking at the peaceful child in front of the man.

Apparently the late travel the night before coupled with their early awakening had taken its toll on the little one. They slowed their horses to a pace that would prove less jarring to the slumbering boy, allowing him a little more rest.

The elfling was still asleep when noon passed them by and instead of stopping for food and a short rest they rode on. Bree was not far now and they were not unaccustomed to travelling without rest or food. Delaying their mid-day break until they reached the village was no real hardship for any of them.

  


* * *

  


When Bree-hill came into sight, Thurston thought it time to wake the little one. The child blinked awake when he called to him and he granted the boy a smile. "Hello again, child" he greeted, despite the knowledge that the small boy did not know the language. He was sure the elfling understood it as a greeting nonetheless.

Once he noticed that the boy had become more aware he pointed forward, accompanying his gesture with an explanation, though the boy would not understand it: "That is Bree-hill. The village of Bree, where we are going, lies on one of the slopes."

  


* * *

  


Harry's eyes followed the direction of the man's finger to the hill he could see in front of him and as he did so he noticed the first signs of civilization other than these men. On the hillside he could, even with his improved eyesight, only _just_ discern something that might have been a settlement of some sorts. But closer by he could also clearly see the signs of life; some fields lay alongside the road in the distance and there were some houses and pastures as well.  


'Is this the end of our journey?' he wondered, becoming anxious at the thought. 'What will happen to me now?'

The men slowed their horses to a walk and Estel came to ride beside them. "Tonight we will rest and restock our supplies in the village of Bree," the man told him and Harry immediately felt relieved when he realised that this meant it _wasn't_ their ultimate destination. He knew it was sort of silly of him, 'I mean, we can't just keep travelling forever without eventually getting _somewhere_ , but…' But he wasn't ready for whatever it was that would happen when they reached the end of their journey and he was glad to know that whatever or wherever it was they were travelling to, this wasn't it.

He was broken from those thoughts when the man next to him called to him once more, his tone seemed somewhat hesitant and succeeded in drawing Harry's full attention immediately.

  


* * *

  


"Little one," Aragorn started, speaking softly to the child, not sure how to say this and afraid it would make the child even more uncomfortable around Men. But it needed to be said if they wanted their visit to Bree to go as smoothly as possible. "For the time it might be best to keep your heritage hidden." The child tilted his head sideways to look up at him more easily and he gave the elfling another gentle smile; "Men tend to react with fear or wonder to things they do not completely understand."

He slowly reached out with his long arms, careful not to startle the boy, and covered the child's head with the large hood of the cloak he wore. "Though the men of Bree are more familiar with the other races that inhabit the world than most Men, and though they are not necessarily rude or unpleasant, they _are_ somewhat suspicious of those unknown to them and they have had few encounters with elfkind. It might be best to keep such matters to ourselves."

  


* * *

  


'Elfkind?' Harry wondered, the image of Dobby the first thing in his mind. He smiled, feeling certain that this was not exactly what Estel meant. No, the man had been referring to Harry's pointy ears, that much was obvious from the hood now covering them (and most of his face due to the large size), as well as from the reactions of Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere when they first discovered them.

His ears indicated something about what he now was; something about his 'heritage' as Estel called it. It made sense in a way; hadn't the voices gone on about Harry's bloodline, his ancestors who they called 'the Eldar'? Perhaps 'elf' was just another word for the same.

Harry nodded his head in reply to the man; he would definitely keep his ears hidden. The situation was very familiar to him. Only now it wasn't his scar that defined him as different like it had been in the wizarding world. Now it was his _ears_ that set him apart from the others.

They rode slowly towards the hillside on which Harry could now see the village more easily. The village was encircled with a thick hedge of sorts. As they came even closer he noticed that there was a gate where the road they were on made it to the village.

  


* * *

  


When they neared the southern gate of Bree, the Dúnedain dismounted.

Aragorn turned to look once more at their charge, whom Thurston had easily lifted of the horse as well. He had warned the child that the Bree-folk might become suspicious if they noticed the elven ears, but he knew that even without them visible, their little group would still be met with much distrust.

The child looked very sweet, dressed in the large shirt and even larger cloak, but it would certainly emphasize to the Men of Bree just how out of place the boy was in the company of Rangers. And though the suspicion would naturally fall upon the Rangers (who the Bree-landers were already much mistrustful of) and not on the child, it might still make their stay in Bree an awkward or unpleasant one.

He sighed, hoping that the reactions of the Bree-folk would not be too frightening to the little one. The boy had already shown himself to be somewhat hesitant and withdrawn; he could see that clearly from his own observations and it was affirmed by what he had heard from Halbarad, Dunnere and Thurston. He knew that the crowded village of Men would probably make the child uncomfortable, but it could not be helped. They needed supplies, after all, to continue their journey to Rivendell and since there were no other places to get them between here and their destination, stopping in Bree could not be avoided.

They would just have to shield the elfling as best they could.

Aragorn softly patted the child's head as he passed him to briefly speak with the others before their entry into Bree.

  


* * *

  


Estel gently patted him on his cloak covered head before turning to the others and exchanging a few more words. Harry's eyes followed him as he felt somewhat shocked by the simple gesture.

He had already grown a bit accustomed to the men, especially Thurston but also Halbarad, Dunnere and even Estel despite his only recent arrival. He had travelled with them for days now and gotten used to their presence and riding with them. They lifted him up and down from their horse and kept him steady if they were going too fast. But this was the first time any of them had touched him in a non-essential way and it made him feel a bit uncomfortable and yet comforted at the same time.

He had never really liked to be touched. Hugs by his friends or Mrs. Weasley always made him feel a bit awkward since he was so unused to them. He felt the same uncomfortable awkwardness at this little gesture and yet… And yet he also felt the same warmth he had felt when Halbarad had given him one of his shirts. The feeling of being accepted, _wanted_.

When Estel turned back to him, having apparently finished his conversation with the other men, Harry still wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. And he didn't get the chance to ponder it any further as the shock of a second such action came over him. "Stay close" the man whispered as he took the reins of his horse in one hand, and held Harry's own small hand in the other.

Together they followed Halbarad and Dunnere as they moved to the gate at the town's edge, while Thurston took the rear of their little group.

  


* * *

  


Harry should have expected it from the clothing, weapons and horses of the men he had been travelling with but he couldn't help but feel slightly stunned by how medieval the town seemed to be. Sure, the wizarding world often seemed to still live in the Middle Ages, but even living amongst them for half his life hadn't really prepared him for this.

There were people, horses, carts and even more people going about their business. The streets were filled with the sound of voices, all calling, talking, yelling in a language he could not understand. And although it was not nearly as busy as some of the places he had been to (like King's Cross or the Great Hall of Hogwarts during dinner time) it still overwhelmed him.

In the past days he had become accustomed to the silent, watchful air and soft, kind voices of his current companions. The loudness and harshness of this town was unexpected and overwhelming. He was suddenly very glad for the hand that held his own and decided to stay very close indeed. He almost felt as if he were back in Diagon Alley, that first time. He remembered how grateful he had been for the kind half-giant's presence and he took the same comfort now from the presence of the four men with him.

After a while the panicked, overwhelmed feeling lessened slightly and he became a bit more used to the people all around him, though they still made him feel small and uncomfortable. So, still holding Estel's hand with one of his own, and clutching his little seashell in the other he started looking around a bit more.

The people in Bree were very different than those he travelled with, he noticed. They were shorter, their faces more open and cheerful and most of them had a brownish hair colour, many shades lighter than that of Harry's tall, dark-haired companions. Their clothing was just as old fashioned as that of Estel, Thurston and the others but also very different: the colours that these Bree-men wore were less sombre, the style more elaborate and the fabric less worn and stained. 'Less suitable for battle.' Harry realised after a moment. With that realisation he scanned the crowds once more and noted that indeed, these men were not armed like the men he travelled with. Most of these people wore no weapons whatsoever, though he could manage to discern a knife in a sheath here and there.

Besides the men and women, he also saw smaller people that he had first assumed were children. But after a few more glances he noticed this wasn't the case. They were shorter than the men, yes, but their features looked like those of a grown up and they were carrying stuff, driving carts and working like adults. Their feet, Harry observed a moment later, truly gave them away as different, just as _his_ ears did. Their feet were fairly hairy, not to mention bare. The humans all wore boots or other shoe-wear.

Harry wasn't the only one observing, he was also being observed, gawked at and eyed by many of the people they passed. Once he noticed that, he grew more and more uncomfortable under the looks these people shot at him and he unconsciously drew himself closer to Estel's side, trying to find shelter from their gazes. It was very much like his first time in Diagon Alley indeed.

  


* * *

  


Aragorn and his men easily picked their way through the crowded, afternoon bustle of Bree. He ignored the looks and muttering that accompanied them on the streets, knowing that the fact that there were four of them as well as that there was a little boy with them, was enough to feed the gossip in the village for a long time.

They made their way towards the inn, wanting to acquire rooms before braving the streets again to find the supplies they needed. Most of the food they could find at the Prancing Pony but another waterskin would certainly not be remiss, as well as some other items if they could find them, and if people would sell it to them for a reasonable price.

Aragorn startled when he noticed the elfling press closer against him, and looked down to see the child shrinking from the looks sent their way.

He stopped ignoring the people then and repaid every stare with one of his own, causing those who were caught in his gaze to quickly turn away.

  


* * *

  


Harry was relieved when they entered what looked like an inn. The inside was actually somewhat familiar to him in that it was not wholly different from the Leaky Cauldron and the Three Broomsticks. And, although this inn was very medieval, the atmosphere was less dark, dim and dingy than in the Hog's Head.

He stood silently at Estel's side as Halbarad spoke to the bartender. He noticed that this man kept shooting him a few looks as well, but tried to ignore it as best as he could. The bartender seemed to call to someone else and a few moments later they were being led down a corridor by one of the short people with hairy feet.

They were shown a room with a sturdy table and six chairs as well as a fire-place with a pair of comfortable looking chairs in front of it. The short man left them there, and he returned with their late lunch.

Quietly they ate, and it was wonderful to finally have a slightly more elaborate lunch than their travel food, and after they were all done, Halbarad and Estel moved a bit away from them and started discussing something. Harry wasn't sure what they were talking about, but apparently it interested the others as well, for they were drawn into the conversation as well.

Surprisingly it didn't bother Harry overly much that he wasn't privy to what they were talking about. It was strange but there was no burst of indignation or anger to being excluded. He had been so angry before and during his fifth year, when everyone was keeping secrets about things that concerned _him_ far more than anyone else. But now he stood by and waited for the men to finish their talk, not sure if it _was_ even about him or something else entirely. And not entirely sure _why_ he actually trusted Estel to tell him about it, if it was important. 

This unexpected trust, more than the fact that they might be discussing something without him, bothered him. He wasn't sure if he should be trusting anyone right now. Even if it was just with not being kept in the dark.

A swift knock and the hasty entrance of the innkeeper dispelled his thoughts. The burly man said something and though Harry could not understand the words, he could divine from his manner that it was some sort of inquiry, perhaps asking if they needed anything else.

Estel answered the man and the bartender nodded and uttered something else in reply.

Estel turned back to the other men, and the innkeeper towards the door. But he apparently changed his mind at the last second, because instead of leaving he turned his attention to Harry, who had been quietly observing the exchange. The man gave him another look, one the boy couldn't seem to interpret.

The bartender glanced quickly at the huddle of men and looked back at Harry again, quietly asking him something.

 _What_ he had been asked, Harry didn't know. But he was glad that Estel had apparently noticed the interaction despite the innkeeper's (poor) attempt to have a private word with him. Estel intervened before Harry would have had to answer and said something to the man that made him leave.

Harry sighed with relief, figuring that the fact he couldn't speak the language would have given him away just as fast as revealing his ears.

Estel said a few more words in the direction of the other men before he laid his hand on Harry's shoulder; "Come, let us see if we can find you an attire better fitting. Thurston will accompany us while Halbarad and Dunnere gather the other needed supplies."

  


* * *

  


Not too long after that, Harry was being led down the street by Estel again, Thurston walking a little before them. He wasn't a hundred percent sure about where they were going, but Estel's earlier remark about finding him a better fitting attire made him believe that they were probably trying to find him some less oversized clothes.

The suspicious looks sent their way had not lessened, but after the initial shock he managed to shake it off and ignore it to some extend. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of his second and fourth year and yet somehow different… after a while it became clear to Harry that in this case it was not just _him_ that everyone was looking at. The glares and fearful, suspicious glances were mostly directed to his _companions_. Harry himself was treated to curious and almost pitying looks instead.

'They don't like them.' it soon enough become blindingly clear to him. 'But why?' he wondered.

He was reminded of the looks the innkeeper had sent him, and how he had tried to talk to Harry. The look, it dawned on him, might have contained concern.

Did these people think he was in trouble? That Thurston, Estel and the others would harm him, or had kidnapped him or something? The idea seemed somewhat ridiculous. Sure he had been very cautious and hesitant of the men at first. But that had slowly lessened when they hadn’t treated him with anything but kindness day after day and by now he was actually rather sure they wouldn't try to hurt him.

On the other hand, Harry was still a bit uncertain about wherever it was they were taking him – something he hadn’t dared ask about for two reasons; one he didn’t want to give away just how clueless he was and two, the childish side of him preferred not to think about what would happen when they reached the end of their journey. And he also didn't want to make himself more vulnerable to them than he already was by telling them his name and answering their other questions.

But _still_.

He didn't think they would actually _hurt_ him.

Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere and now Estel had already had every opportunity to harm him if they wanted to. Instead they had proven to be kind and patient men.

They might look a little rough around the edges and they hadn't exactly told him anything about themselves either, but despite Harry's reluctance and independent mentality he found himself actually starting to trust them.

They didn't _have_ to help him but they did. They didn't gain anything from being kind to him but they had.

So why was everyone treating them like that? Was that because of him?

The thought made him feel guilty for the moment it took for him to discard it.

'No,' he told himself 'that wouldn't make sense. Estel and Thurston are acting like this is normal behaviour.' He noticed how the two men with him ignored the stares and whispers as if they were used to it. Like Harry _should_ be used to it by now. And he was, _almost_. It had just caught him off guard after the quiet company of these men out in the open. 

Not to mention how the childish feelings that rose inside him only made it seem worse.

In fact, it was those some childish urges and feelings that he blamed for what happened next.

It had happened rather fast; a young woman awkwardly holding a package, looking down at it as she tried to get a better grip and unknowingly walking straight into the path of a large man moving quickly on his way. The collision seemed inevitable and the woman and package both fell to the ground. The man, apparently either too busy or uncaring to help moved on and it was Thurston who first came upon her and picked up her package before helping her to her feet.

The look of fearful distrust that the woman aimed at Thurston when the man returned the package to her was not unfamiliar to Harry. He had seen it shot his way often enough: when people thought he was the Heir of Slytherin or after the Minister had denied Voldemort's return and Harry was accused of being either crazy or a liar. But he could see no reason for such a look to be sent _Thurston_ 's way. And it bothered him. Though Halbarad had been the first man to speak to Harry in this world, it had been Thurston whose patience and kindness had managed to spark the first beginnings of trust within him.

The woman spoke, and while he could not understand the words, he could discern the fear-laced scorn that lay contained in them.

And although, moments later, Thurston turned away from the scene as if it didn't bother him at all, as if what had happened was of no importance whatsoever, it still bothered _Harry_ a lot. 

Because he _knew_ how much things like that could _hurt_.

Without any further thoughts or considerations he quickly removed his hand from Estel's larger one, managing to slip away due to the unexpectedness of such an action, and moved across the few paces of empty space that separated him from Thurston.

The childish feelings inside of him united themselves with a compassion that was purely Harry's - so he didn't even hesitate as he let his small arms circle around the tall, grim-faced man's waist.

  


* * *

  


Thurston blinked.

For a moment he was completely caught off guard.

When the shock had passed a warm smile started to spread across his weathered face, one usually reserved for the moments he spend with his own children.

He gently put his arms around the child. He was not sure how the boy could tell that the interaction had saddened him. Especially since the child could not even understand their language.

But he could see the compassion in the boy's eyes when he was finally released from the boy's hold and the elfling looked up at him.

They looked at each other for a long moment, the child searching the man's eyes for a sign if he was truly alright. The man taking comfort in the sweet, gentle compassion he could find in the child's eyes. So different from the scorn, distrust and thankless reactions of the people he endeavoured to save.

Finally, after a long silent moment in which the sounds of Bree seemed to fade into nothing, Aragorn broke them from their state with a gentle hand on Thurston's shoulder. 

"Let us continue, my friend." the Chieftain said gently and Thurston, throat inexplicably tight, merly nodded in reply.

"Thank you, little one." He said softly to the elfling, holding out his hand for the child to take.

The trust in the boy's eyes when he took it was one of the most heartening sights he had seen in his life.


	10. On the Road

They had stayed the night in Bree and Harry was grateful for the delicious meals, the change of sleeping in a real bed and receiving his very own (rather small) pack with a waterskin and some food in it. Their little mission of finding some better fitting clothes had been a partial success; they had found no shoes or boots to fit him, so barefooted he remained. (Not that it bothered him overly much, since they spent most of the days riding.) They had, however found him a green shirt that was _almost_ his size and some brown trousers that fit him well enough around the waist but were a few inches short.

He was happy with the new clothes that Estel had bought him and had taken a moment of privacy in one of their rooms to change into them. He hadn't wanted to return Halbarad's shirt, so instead giving it back to the man or leaving it lying on the bed he had stuffed it into his pack, his only other belonging; the white sea shell safely hidden between the folds.

The man had never asked, or had Estel ask, to have it back.

He still wore Thurston's cloak, having come to like the familiar garment despite the fact that it was _far_ too big for him and that he didn't really need it to stay warm. Most of the time he wore it with the hood over his head, even after leaving Bree, just in case they came across someone on the road.

Despite the meals and the bed, Harry was very relieved when they had left the village behind them shortly after dawn. The people there had watched them all the time and though he had tried to ignore it as best he could, he was glad that it was behind them now.

Harry wondered again about where they were travelling _to_. Would the people there react to them in the same way? Would they, too, look at him with pity in their eyes, and at his friends with scorn and distrust?

He blinked. His friends. He had never thought of Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere and Estel as his _friends_ before. But they sort of were, weren't they? At first he had just thought of them as the people he was travelling with, but it had been them, together, against the people of Bree and now, somehow Harry couldn’t think of them as strangers any longer. The innkeeper, the people of Bree – _they_ were strangers. His companions; Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere, Estel – they were his friends.

He smiled, feeling childishly happy at the thought.

  


* * *

  


Aragorn observed the elfling happily 'sword-fighting' with Halbarad, with a fond smile on his face.

He had been worried that the little one would become more fearful of them because of the suspicions of the Bree-folk, but instead it seemed that their young charge was finally relaxing in their presence. The child still spoke little and would not confide in him what had happened that caused the child to be so far from elven settlements and all by himself. But the small elf was getting more comfortable around them, he could tell, and it greatly gladdened him to see the little one trusting them enough to relax his guard a bit.

The boy giggled when Halbarad dramatically gasped and fell to the earth after having allowed the child a 'fatal wound' with his long stick. The man lay there motionless, with his eyes closed. When the elfling carefully approached him he suddenly sprung up, reaching out to grab the surprised child. But the little one's elven reflexes were too fast and the boy dodged, running from his second in command with delighted laughter. Aragorn found himself chuckling too, at the sight of the child's carefree playing and the beautiful sound of elven laughter that warmed his heart.

  


* * *

  


Their journey took them, swiftly and safely, over the Great East Road.

So far there had been no signs of trouble and Thurston prayed that it would last. There was little trouble that four Rangers could not handle, but with a young charge to protect… There was much – _too much_ at risk.

And even if they came through any hostile encounter without harm, Thurston preferred not to think about how the child would respond to the violence and horrors of battle? One of such youth and innocence should not be exposed to such things, he felt. Especially since he believed the child had already gone through too much.

The elfling was finally getting over his distrust of them, was finally letting his guard down around them just a small amount. He did not want the boy to regain the withdrawn, distrustful attitude of before.

Now that they had passed Weathertop and were nearing the Last Bridge, the safety of the Road was less certain and one of them had started scouting ahead, on occasion, making sure that there was nothing dangerous on their way.

  


* * *

  


Harry had noticed how, in the last two days, the men he travelled with were becoming more cautious. They had always been watchful, but their cautious air had increased and Harry found himself loosing the carefree, happy cheerfulness of the previous days and reverting to the quiet, watchful wizard he had grown up to be.

He was not sure what dangers this world held, exactly. 'No death eaters, that's for sure', he thought with an amused smile. But Harry knew there must be some danger, there always was, and from the looks of his friends and the way one of them kept scouting ahead of them (currently that was Halbarad) the danger could very possibly be hanging out somewhere around here.

'But what could it be?' he wondered 'wolves, maybe? Or thieves?' It bothered him, whatever it was. Not just because of the fact that it remained unknown to him (it's better to know what you're facing) but also because he was completely _helpless_. He had no wand, no weapons and no real fighting abilities. Sure if they were attacked, he would certainly give it everything he had but… but unfortunately in this child's body that 'everything' wasn't very much.

So, anxiously, he watched and waited, hoping that for once, _for once_ , his bad luck wouldn't draw every possible danger towards them like a magnet.

  


* * *

  


Their journey continued without anything happening. No wolves, thieves or God knows what else might be lurking in this world. Still, Harry wasn't about to write it off as nothing. His friends were still tense and cautious and they knew this world far better than he did.

They crossed what Estel told him was called 'The Last Bridge'. It sounded somewhat ominous to him, both because of the way the others still seemed expectant of danger (meaning that it might be the last bridge they would ever cross) and because it brought to mind that they might be nearing the end of their journey. And now that he had found friends in this world he didn't want them to leave him behind in some Bree-like settlement with everyone watching him and… 'Let's not think of that, right now,' he told himself firmly. 'Besides, with my luck we might not even make it to this Imladris, alive, anyway.'

He let an amused smile cross his face and longingly thought about how Ron and Hermione would react to that joke. Ron would think it was funny and Hermione would scold them both for making light of something that could get them killed.

He looked up at Estel, who he was now riding with, and vaguely wondered how his new friends would take to his strange sense of humour. He wasn't as close to these men as he was with Ron and Hermione, of course, but it was nice to have someone on his side in a strange, unknown world like this.

Perhaps his luck wasn't _all_ bad.

He imagined there were far, _far_ worse people or creatures he might have come across as his 'first contact' with this new world.

  


* * *

  


The only signs of the days passing were found in the shift in who Harry rode with, currently Thurston again, and in the change of scenery around them.

After crossing the bridge they had come to a forested area; broad, tall trees covered the ground on either side of the road and Harry noticed how Estel and Halbarad's hands often strayed to their swords when a sound of any kind was heard.

Their first two days in these woods had been spent in watchful, wary silence and Harry found himself becoming increasingly nervous about the woods surrounding them and the dangers that might be concealed by the trees.

When Harry heard a soft, almost indistinguishable sound he knew immediately that his infamous trouble attracting abilities had kicked in once more. He still wasn't sure what sort of danger the others were so wary of but he knew that it had just come out to play.

He grasped Thurston's sleeve and tugged, quietly drawing the man's attention. He unobtrusively pointed to the direction from where he had heard the almost inaudible sound.

The man quietly conveyed the message to the other men (or so Harry assumed in any case) and apparently it was possible for them to become even _more_ watchful and tense. Dunnere moved his horse in front of Thurston's, a bow and arrow and his hands, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. Estel and Halbarad were directly in front of the direction Harry could even now hear the slightest whisper of movement from, their swords unsheathed and ready in their hands.


	11. New Acquaintances

When a beautiful voice, filled with a sort of gentle amusement, spoke out from between the trees it took Harry a long moment to realise that the men around him relaxed their guard almost immediately at the sound of it.

The voice was soon followed by two tall figures emerging from the woods, who Harry could not help but stare at from underneath the hood of his (well, Thurston's) cloak.

  


* * *

  


Aragorn let out a breath of relief when he heard one of his brothers call out to them and sheathed his sword.

A moment later the sons of Lord Elrond appeared before them.

"Mae govannen, Estel," one of them greeted warmly.

"Elrohir, Elladan. It is good to see you, my brothers," he said as he dismounted. He could hear the sounds of the other men dismounting behind him.

"When we heard the sound of horses upon the road, we came to investigate," Elladan easily informed them, in Westron, for the sake of his companions.

"And we are full of joy at your sight, little brother," the smile on Elrohir's face attested to that.

Aragorn smiled at his brothers. "Indeed, I have much missed your company in the past few years. It does my heart great joy to see you once again. Though the duties of a Ranger are ones I gladly take upon me, I have dearly missed Rivendell."

"And you are always welcome there." Elladan answered, "You, and any who accompanies you. But brother, why are you so many? Has something occurred? Do you seek our aid?" the twins were now frowning in concern and Aragorn shook his head quickly to dispel it.

"No new and unknown dangers stalk the Northern lands to my knowledge, brothers. But, there is indeed something that has stirred my concern." At this he looked back at the young elfling in their care. The boy still had not told them how he had ended up lost and alone. His brothers' gazes effortlessly followed his own, and now that the men had dismounted they could discern the small form that had previously been shielded from view by Dunnere.

"A child?" Elladan breathed.

Aragorn nodded and started to explain: "before meeting up with me, my three friends came across this little one, alone in the wild. They found him at the woods of Eryn Vorn…" 

He wasn't exactly sure how to inform them that the child was in fact an _elfling_. There was no safe, delicate way to put it so in the end he decided to just say it and get it over with. But while he steeled himself for the twins' responses, the two moved away from him and approached the boy in question. Aragorn knew how a child can tug on the heart of an elf and hearing that they had found the boy out in the wilderness all by himself had doubtlessly brought out his brothers' compassion.

But he wasn't sure how the elfling would react to them. Normally he would not worry about such a thing, because no elf would ever hurt an elfling, and he could not imagine one to ever be afraid of them. But the boy was so withdrawn and distrustful of strangers that Aragorn wasn't sure if he would react well even to _elves_.

There was little else he could do, however, but wait and see. The child would have to meet them at some point in time, after all.

  


* * *

  


They were twins. The men who were talking to Estel.

They were even taller than Estel and Halbarad. Similarly dark-haired, though their hair was longer and _far_ less dirty. They had young, fair faces and were utterly _beautiful_.

More than their outer beauty, though, there was something deeper about them that instinctively made him feel safe. Something intangible but very present - an instinctive feeling that mirrored a child's fear of the dark.

Instead of darkness, though, they were light. Light and safety, and the child inside him liked them immediately.

But Harry wouldn't let that strange, instinctive feeling overcome him. He knew that such a sense of peace and safety could easily be false, or mimicked by magic: the Imperious curse was the prime example of that.

He didn't know these people and he wouldn't let these feelings cloud his judgement, Harry firmly told himself, trying to curb the part of him that felt utterly warm and safe just by laying eyes on them.

The men in question finished their conversation with Estel and started walking towards him.

He eyed them warily, despite the inner joy he felt at their sight, and when they came to stand before him, he patiently waited for them to speak.

  


* * *

  


'A child alone in the wilds?' Elrohir thought, looking at the small form standing in front of a Ranger he did not recognize. 'He must have been so frightened.'

He approached the young one slowly, his brother but a pace behind him. It was probable that the child had never seen one of the Eldar before and he did not want to startle or overwhelm the boy so he kept a slight distance between them when he stopped and paused a moment before he spoke.

"Well met, little one," he spoke gently "my name is Elrohir."

The child peeked out at him from under a large cloak that Elrohir believed might belong to the Ranger next to the child, since the man appeared to be missing his.

"This is my brother" he gestured to his twin who silently stood by him, "Elladan."

There came no response from the boy and Elrohir worked to keep a frown from appearing on his face.

"He does not speak Westron," Estel informed them as he came to join them, leaving his horse in Halbarad's care, “Nor any of the languages of Men.” 

He walked up to the group and motioned Dunnere and Thurston to keep back. Probably to keep the child from feeling crowded, Elrohir divined. The two men guided their horses a little ways of, and joined Halbarad in watching their meeting from a slight distance.

Elrohir looked at his human brother, the question clearly readable on his face for those who knew him well. 'What do you mean, he does not speak any of the languages of Men?' but his brother ignored him and turned instead to the young boy.

"Little one, these are by brothers; Elladan _and_ Elrohir." Estel spoke to the child.

In _Sindarin_.

  


* * *

  


When Estel came over to join them and introduced the two strange men as his brothers, Harry wasn't quite sure what to think or feel.

He liked Estel, _trusted_ him. But these newcomers seemed so very different. Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere seemed far more likely to be Estel's brothers than _these_ men. 

He scrutinized them further, trying to find some sort of similarity between the twins and Estel, but instead he was shocked by a different discovery. It was almost strange that he hadn't noticed it earlier, especially with how self-conscious he was about his own ears now that they were different. Theirs were just as pointed as his own.

'They're like me!' the startling, joyful, realisation came to him.

And he felt just as utterly relieved in that moment as when he had first spotted Thurston and the others in the forest. 'I'm not alone. I'm not the only one.' His resolve to be wary of them, to stop being naïve and trusting and foolish left him at once, and he smiled shyly at the two tall beings.

"Hello," he said softly, the greeting, as ever, coming out in a different, melodic language.

  


* * *

  


It took a lot to surprise or startle an elf. Especially either him or Elrohir since they, unlike most elves, had spend a lot of time in the presence of humans.

Not to mention having a little human brother.

Estel had been a great joy to everyone in Imladris. There had been no child there since their sister's birth and that had been more than two and a half thousand years before Estel and his mother came to Rivendell. Their little brother's exploits when growing up had brought more joy, liveliness and surprises to their valley then anything else in these recent years.

And after living through the childhood of a human boy, Elladan truly had believed there was near to nothing that could surprise him now.

But he had been _very much_ mistaken.

For the sweet elven voice that had greeted them shocked him to the core.

'Surely it could not be…?'

He watched as his brother took a step closer to the child and as he lowered himself to be closer to the little one's height. He did not dare even _breathe_ as Elrohir reached out to the child with a barely perceptibly trembling arm and oh so slowly removed the little one's hood, revealing the miracle before them.

  


* * *

  


One of the tall, pointy-eared twins knelt before him.

The man reached out to him slowly but for Harry it was still far too fast. A fierce battle raged within him, one that he could not win because he wasn't sure what side he was even on. Should he back away? But the man seemed so… safe. And Estel was standing right next to him. There was no time to think or act anymore, his hood was gently moved away and Harry merely stood there, nervously waiting for these men to react.

The childish urge to close his eyes, to hide from their reactions surged up in him. But he refused to follow it. He reminded himself that he wasn't a child but seventeen years old, that not everyone was like the Dursleys or the people of Bree. Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Remus, Hagrid, Fred and George and all the other Weasleys, Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere, Estel. There were many people out there who had accepted him as he was, who didn't judge him by his scar or his ears or anything else. So he gathered all his Gryffindor courage and met the eyes of the man (or was that elf?) before him.

"Hello," he said again, the word sounding far more soft and uncertain than he had wanted it too, but at least he had refrained from closing his eyes, hiding or running away.

  


* * *

  


'An elfling.' Elrohir thought, completely astounded. His gaze was fixed upon the incredible sight before him. Had he wandered into a dream? With difficulty he tore his gaze away from the child to his twin brother, reading in his eyes and face the mirror of his own thoughts.  
His gaze returned to the boy. No, he had not imagined it. The young elfling was still there.

The little one locked eyes with him, the beautiful emerald colour completely drawing him in.

"Suilad" the child said softly, sounding almost uncertain.

Elrohir blinked, as if awaking from his amazement and realised for the first time that the elfling looked shy and uncomfortable underneath their gazes.

It was enough to break him from the strange state of awe that had entangled him before.

He let a warm smile come to his face, which was indeed not very difficult while gazing upon such a sweet sight. " _Greetings, little one._ " he spoke in the gentlest of voices, hoping to sooth the child. " _As my brother said; my name is_ Elrohir." He felt his twin kneel slowly beside him. " _And I am_ Elladan. _Well met."_

  


* * *

  


Their voices were kind, gentle and soothing like those of Estel and his other new friends when they spoke to him. The sound of it, though, differed completely. Their voices sounded, he realised, quite like his own did now: clear and musical.

Harry shifted a little, feeling very small and shy under the gazes of these tall, beautiful beings to whose race he now apparently belonged.

It was Estel who saved him from the twin's gazes, speaking up and drawing their attention to himself.

  


* * *

  


Though the little one did not, thankfully, appear fearful of the twins he did stay silent and seemed to Aragorn even more uncomfortable than he had been while meeting him.

He decided to give the child a little time to adjust to the twin's presence and drew their attention back to him. He had observed no horses or packs and assumed that his brothers had left them behind for the sake of stealth when they came to investigate who was using the road. 

" _Have you no horses, brothers? Or are they hidden from our sight?_ " he asked in Sindarin, drawing their eyes from the elfling to him at his interruption.

The twins stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment and Aragorn barely kept himself from chuckling. It seemed as if his brothers had actually forgotten about their current place and situation in face of the elfling. Something that he had never witnessed happening before.

They regained their balance quickly (not that Aragorn would have expected any differently) and Elrohir whistled sharply, presumably to summon the horses.

"Estel" Elladan called softly, but said nothing further. Aragorn could easily read the message in his brother's eyes; he wanted to talk.

"It is not evening yet, but we could make camp here." He answered, but Elladan immediately shook his head. "No, brother, we should hasten. Let us ride on until nightfall." There was a worry in the elf's voice that alarmed him. He nodded and called to his men.

"Let us continue." He met Thurston's eyes and gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod. The little one would be left again in the man's care. Aragorn needed to talk to one of his brothers.

Their group was joined by the two impressive steeds of the twins. The elves gracefully mounted them and they were all quickly on their way again. 

Elladan rode with Estel at the front of their company and Elrohir a few paces behind Thurston and his precious charge, guarding their backs.


	12. A Glow too Near and Far

Aragorn looked apprehensively at his brother, hoping that whatever it was that made the elf so insistent that they hasten their journey, was not something that would become a danger to them, and their young charge.

"What worries you, Elladan?" Aragorn asked in Westron, certain that his brother did not want the elfling listening in.

Elladan remained silent for a moment, before sighing and turning his troubled eyes to Aragorn; "We were not out here by chance, Estel. These woods have become perilous of late. I know not why, but a group of wolves from further North have lately come out and nearer to our borders, though they have never crossed it. They are intelligent enough to know better than to cross the Bruinen into our lands. But they have been near enough to cause us worry." As his brother spoke, the gentle light that had filled his eyes at the sight of the elfling was replaced by a warrior's glint. "Father had lately sent out patrols to ensure the safety of the areas nearest to our borders – so that we may dispose of them if we can, or otherwise drive them further back..."

"Wolves!" Aragorn exclaimed in dismay. "We cannot deal with them now. Not with an elfling in our care."

"I know!" Elladan returned with just as much vehemence, "And indeed, how can this be, Estel? An _elfling_? There has been no word of one being even _born_. And you say this little one was found in the wilderness, lost and on his own."

Aragorn shook his head. "I know not how this came to be, my brother. The young one is still so hesitant of us. He has not spoken of his past, nor even given his name, though he has become less guarded with us, of late. I was as surprised as you were when Halbarad told me of the boy's heritage, and indeed I doubted his words until I verified them with my own eyes."

Elladan sighed; "Well, we can learn more of the child later. For now we must insure he reaches Rivendell safely. Should it come to a battle, we may need to part ways."

"Yes," Aragorn agreed, frowning at the thought of exposing the elfling to the dangers of battle, "it would be best if the one of us riding with the little one went ahead, perhaps with one other as an escort to insure their safety. Those of us who remain behind should be able to deal with any danger, and we may face it then without worry for the child."

Elladan nodded, glad that his younger brother grasped his thoughts so quickly.

Their plans set they returned to riding in a watchful silence for a few more hours, until the daylight had just about disappeared and Elladan guided them a little ways of the road.

Silently they made camp, the Rangers and the elfling in their care enjoying the fresh taste of the fruits and bread that the twins shared with them. Soon after they drifted of to sleep. All but the two elven sons of Elrond who quietly watched over the group of Dúnedain and the miracle they had found. No words were exchanged between them but their eyes communicated their mutual surprise, concern and amazement.

  


* * *

  


Aragorn silently pondered who should ride with their young charge today. There was still the chance of an attack. They were close to the Ford, though, so there was the hope that riding ahead with the child would not be necessary. But Elladan had told him that those wolves had come close to the borders and with a group as large as their company… it would certainly draw the notice of anyone or anything nearby.

He sighed and made his decision. He had no doubt that his brothers would remain behind to guard their escape, and although he wanted to be by their side in battle he knew that they could certainly take care of themselves. 

"Dunnere," he finally spoke. "Will you ride with our young charge today?" the man nodded, apparently unsurprised. Aragorn knew that his friends had probably listened in on his discussion with Elladan the day before. To a Ranger it would be near impossible to miss a discussion of dangers on the road when it was held just before them. Dunnere was the youngest and least experienced in battle. His duty was not an unexpected one.

"I will ride by you today." He stated; the message clear to all. He would guard the man and child to make sure that they make it to Rivendell safely, while the others covered their retreat.

Moments later they rode out, with a plan in mind should they be attacked and with hope in their hearts that it would prove wholly unnecessary.

  


* * *

  


They had been riding for about three hours when he heard a noise somewhere in front of them, to their right. Unlike the sounds Harry had heard when Estel's brothers joined them, this time the sounds of rustling bushes and branches breaking were loud enough for his friends to hear as well.

Before the realisation had fully set in, four large snarling wolves jumped out from between the trees with a furious force.

Mere seconds after the shapes had come into view two arrows buried themselves in two of them. The creatures cried out in pain and anger and one of them fell down, but the other joined his brethren, an arrow still buried in his shoulder, as they rushed to their prey.

All of the horses had stopped upon the arrival of these beasts and they panted nervously beneath their riders. Halbarad and Thurston had quickly unsheathed their swords and Hary could feel Dunnere tensing up behind him.

Estel remained beside them and held his hand up, saying something to Dunnere in the language that Harry did not know, though the sign was one that Harry interpreted as ‘wait’ or ‘stop’.

A moment passed and the wolves were almost upon them. But instead of going for his sword, Estel grasped the reins of his horse and while the other men in the company engaged the wolves in battle, Estel yelled out something and Dunnere kicked his horse into action at the same time as Estel did. Their horses dodged quickly past the beasts while they were occupied by the men and elves and started galloping away from the sounds of battle.

Harry had witnessed his fair share of battles; a side effect from growing up during a war or on the cusps of one. But _those_ battles had been mostly from a distance, with magic. There was, of course, his encounter with that troll and that time he faced the basilisk with a sword, but unlike these men he had no idea what he was doing back then. It had been luck and magic that had saved him in both cases, not his skills in battle.

Harry had caught only a few brief glimpses of the fighting before their horses had rushed away, but it had been enough for him to be stunned by the determination, confidence and skill with which his friends and the elven twins stood against these fierce, fast, dangerous creatures. Although Harry had seen the swords, bows and knifes that his friends and Estel's brothers carried, it had never truly hit home to him that underneath the kind smiles and gentle words these men were _warriors_.

They rode on and on. Just him, Dunnere and Estel. None of the wolves appeared to be chasing them, held back from them by their companions.

It felt so strange and unnatural to be running _away_ from the battle. Normally he would have been rushing towards it.

But now he was helpless and these men were riding off to protect _him_. 

And then a horrible thought hit him; 'What if Thurston, Halbarad or Estel's brothers get hurt? If not for me Dunnere and Estel would be there too, fighting at their sides. It would be all my fault!'

" _Are you well, little one ?_ " Estel asked him at that moment, and Harry was surprised that despite their speed and the sudden hostile encounter the man was watching him and could, apparently, read something in his expression.

Harry didn't know what to say to that so he just nodded.

" _Will Thurston and the others be alright?_ " came from his mouth, without his permission. And he hated that he sounded like a little kid.

Estel gave him a comforting smile; " _You need not worry, little one. My brothers are great warriors and Halbarad and Thurston are both careful and experienced in battle_."

Harry frowned. He was still not completely convinced; those were typically the kind of things anyone would tell a child in such a situation.

After a moment's pause Estel spoke again; " _Elladan and Elrohir were not out here by chance_ ," the man hesitated a moment, but finally he continued; " _they have been hunting for the wolves that have lately made these woods unsafe. My brothers would have been fine facing them alone and now, with Halbarad and Thurston at their aid they shall not fail. You worry needlessly, little one. They will be safe._ "

That sounded a lot more like the truth and Harry felt a wave of relief come over him. If the two of them had been out hunting for those wolves, that meant that they were probably capable of fighting them, and it had surely seemed that way, from what little he had seen. And now that they had Halbarad and Thurston helping too, he was sure that they would be alright.

He smiled gratefully at his friend, his earlier annoyance at his own childish question completely obliterated under the weight of relief that Estel's reassurance gave him. 

His friends would be alright.

  


* * *

  


They did not pause on their way. Not for lunch and not to wait for their friends. Instead they galloped on for hours, and Estel showed no signs that they would be stopping anytime soon. It seemed Estel was anxious to get as far away from those wolves as possible, and while Harry certainly agreed with that sentiment (those beasts _had_ looked rather menacing after all) he would rather wait for their friends to catch up with them first.

When they crossed a river Estel finally allowed their horses to slow down, and he could feel Dunnere relax slightly. It was almost as if they had passed some sort of invisible boundary and had now reached safety. 

'That,' Harry realised, 'could actually be possible, couldn't it? If they have magic in this world… Well, magic or intelligent and morally upright wolves who signed a treaty that they would not cross this river…' He snorted at the thought. 'Yeah, I’ll have to go with magic on that one. Though, in this world… who knows?'

He looked up at his friend riding beside him. "Estel?" he asked softly.

" _Yes, little one?_ " The man asked gently in return when Harry did not say anything further.

He looked down, feeling almost embarrassed, though for what he didn't know. " _Can we wait for the others, now that it is safe?_ " Although Estel had assured him that they would be alright, Harry knew that there were no guarantees in battle and he really wanted to see them all alive and unharmed with his own two eyes.

Estel looked at him thoughtfully, for a long moment and then gave him a warm smile that had long since become familiar to him in the company of these men. " _We are nearly at Imladris. Can you see those lights in the far distance, little one?_ " He pointed up ahead to their left side, and indeed Harry could see a few faint glows from that direction. " _We will rest and wait for the others there._ "

Harry nodded as he could hardly say 'no' to something like that, but inside he was now even more anxious now than he had been before.

So this was Imladris, their destination.

'Those pointy-eared twins probably live here.' Harry figured. 'Is that why we came here?' the thought hit him suddenly and powerfully – because it made sense. Estel and the others had taken him here to bring him to others of his kind. 'They're going to leave me here,' he realised. And if that was not worrying enough, silently the childish thought snuck up to him; 'but what if these people don't like me?'

Harry glanced at Dunnere and Estel. He always knew that he wouldn't be staying with Estel, Thurston, Dunnere and Halbarad forever. 'They were just taking me somewhere safe. They even told me that.' He had _known_ that something like this was coming. 'And that's ok, because they don't owe me anything, and I don't need them to stay with me. I'm seventeen years old; I can take care of myself.'

But despite everything he kept telling himself he couldn't help hoping that somehow those glowing lights would never come any closer.

  


* * *

  


The lights were indeed much farther away then Harry had thought when he first noticed the faint glow. They rode in a swift trot for hours and darkness was just about starting to set in when the glowing light multiplied before their eyes and the beautiful elven city came into view.

Harry had seen many strange, disturbing and breath-taking sights in his life but this… this was beyond anything. Hogwarts had been a truly magical sight the first time he laid eyes on it and the feeling of awe he always got when he saw it after a long absence (like the summer vacation) had never entirely gone away.

But _this_ place.

This looked magical in its own right. It was a far more subtle magic and beauty than that of Hogwarts and instead of the burst of happiness that he usually felt when he returned to the castle, this place gave him a warm feeling of peace. Hogwarts was many things to Harry but _peaceful_ was never really one of them.

Harry let the serenity and gentle warmth spread over him and despite his fears of what would happen to him now, a small smile came to his face.

" _Little one,_ " Estel's soft voice came from his right. " _Welcome to Rivendell._ "


	13. Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, from now on things said in Sindarin are no longer italicised - it's the only language Harry understands right now, and for now the default language used unless otherwise stated.

Harry felt as though he was caught in a dream.

He hardly noticed when Dunnere lifted him gently off their horse and was only vaguely aware that Estel led both steeds away to their left, to what Harry absentmindedly assumed were stables of sorts. Most of his attention, however, was fixed on the breathtaking sight before him.

Imladris was an _elven_ city, of that there couldn’t be any doubt. It was obvious to Harry that this city could not have been build by humans; it was too light, too fine, too ethereal for any human to create. Even witches and wizards couldn’t create it’s equal – though there were many magical places that were wonderful in their own way this was completely different. This valley before him held a gentler brightness, a softer magic than anything wizard-made.

Closely behind the valley in which this settlement was build stood tall mountains, towering over the fine buildings. And, although the large, dark mountains seemed somewhat ominous, it cast no shadow on Imladris. Instead, the elven city shone with its own light and seemed to Harry like a sanctuary; something that stood apart from the rest of the world and could not be harmed by it.

Despite the fact that it was getting dark, Imladris was full of light. The light, beautiful, airy buildings were cast in a gentle glow that seemed to come almost from the very buildings themselves.

More than the light and beauty of this place it was the _feeling_ that surrounded this place that made a smile form on Harry's face. There was a peacefulness in the air that soothed him as much as a phoenix' song. He had not experienced such a feeling of peace often; not during his childhood, and only very rarely, in small, fleeting moments during his time in the Wizarding world. So he basked in the feeling, letting it soothe his worries and fears for just a moment, while the seconds gently passed him by.

  


* * *

  


Aragorn smiled as he noticed Dunnere's distracted manner when he lifted their small charge off his horse. The young man was staring in awe at all that surrounded him. He glanced at the elfling and felt his smile widen when he saw that there was also a look of wonder on the the little one’s face.

Since neither Ranger nor elfling seemed like they would be moving anytime soon, he took the reins of Dunnere's horse and informed the man quietly that he would see to their horses. 

Satisfied with the absentminded nod he received in return he brought their steeds to the stables of Rivendell.

When Aragorn returned to where he had left Dunnere and the child he found them still captivated by the view of the elven valley. He joined them silently, taking in the same sight. 

Instead of the awe he had seen on his companions' faces, his own heart was filled with the joy of coming home after a long absence.

  


* * *

  


They stood in a comfortable silence for a long moment before Estel's kind voice broke the silent serenity. "Come, child," the man told Harry, "let us go inside. We will find food and rest in my Ada's house. "

Harry's attention was drawn away from the magical sight in front of him to the man standing beside him, holding out his hand for him with a gentle smile.

He smiled shyly and felt rather silly as he took the man's hand. But despite the peacefulness and safety he felt emanating from the valley he liked Estel's reassuring presence in this alien environment. 'Besides, it's not really a big deal. I'm just making sure I don't get lost in this place,' he told himself, and he let Estel lead him to the largest, most elaborate building.

Before going in, though, Harry used his other hand to put the hood of his cloak, which had long since fallen off during their escape, back over his head. He knew it was probably an unnecessary and maybe even an impolite thing to do, but he remembered everyone else's shocked reaction to his ears and he _really_ didn't want to be stared at.

Estel gave him a look that he couldn't quite manage to interpret, but he thought there might have been a hint of surprise or concern in those watchful, grey eyes. Whatever it was, the man said nothing and their little group unhurriedly made their way inside.

Almost immediately after passing through the entrance, they came across an elf, walking the corridors alone. He was very tall, like Elladan and Elrohir, and gave Harry the same sort of 'feeling' of safety and light. He was also just as beautiful and young of face. This was as far as the likeness went, though. For, while the twin elves he had met in the forest had dark hair, this elf had long, blond hair that seemed almost golden. There was a glow about this elf that went beyond what he had seen or felt in the twins; a powerful aura that shone very brightly.

'Perhaps a little _too_ brightly', thought Harry because, especially without his wand, it made him feel very small and helpless in contrast.

The golden-haired elf had clearly noticed them as well and gracefully strode towards them.

"Estel!" the elf greeted Harry's friend warmly. "It is a happy eve to have you have returned to us."

"And I am happy to be in my Ada's house once more. For I have dearly missed it, and its people. It is good to see you, my friend."

"We gladly welcome you back." The golden-haired elf's clear voice rang out, before sliding his gaze over him and Dunnere. "And I see you have brought friends."

The elf turned to them now and spoke in the different language of Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere.

Dunnere responded politely, with a few unintelligible words and a small bow. With that introduction done, the elf's bright, keen eyes turned to him next and Harry felt rather self-conscious underneath the probing gaze, despite the comfortable protection of Thurston's cloak.

For a long moment the elf started down at him, the sharp blue eyes easily finding his own even in the shadow of his hood. Finally, the tall, ethereal being spoke, but it was again in a language he did not know.

Harry broke free from the deep eyes that had held his own and looked helplessly at Estel. 

His friend did not disappoint and the warm smile the man sent his way reassured Harry more than any instinctive 'feeling' ever could. "This is Lord Glorfindel, little one." Estel said gently, "He is a good friend, both to me and Lord Elrond, my Ada."

Harry nodded and looked up at the elf once more, tilting his head back slightly to be able to see the tall elf better.

The golden elf's eyes held a spark of surprise, but his mouth was curved in a gentle smile; "Well met, little one," he spoke warmly in his musical voice.

"Well met, Lord Glorfindel," Harry answered shyly but politely in return.

The elf blinked and Harry was suddenly reminded of his meeting with the elven twins. He nervously wondered if this elf would also want to push back the hood of Harry's cloak, like Elrohir had. He took a small step back, just in case, hiding partly behind Estel. The golden-haired being did nothing of the sort, however, and Harry sighed in relief when the elf's gaze turned back to Estel.

"You must have travelled far." Lord Glorfindel spoke, his words neutral and welcoming but his tone sounding somewhat more distant than before, as though he was distracted or lost in his own thoughts. "Come, I will lead you to your rooms so you may refreshen yourselves." The elf said something more to Dunnere, and started to lead them further into the building. 

They passed through wide, airy hallways and past many closed doors. The other elves they came across looked at him curiously, but thankfully, they did not try to speak with him. Any who passed them merely called out a greeting to Lord Glorfindel or Estel, or just nodded their heads politely as they went by. When they finally came to a stop Harry realised he didn't remember the exact route they had walked, and he scolded himself for not paying enough attention.

Lord Glorfindel and Dunnere once again exchanged a few words. Estel briefly spoke to Dunnere as well, who in return nodded his head and opened the door, though he did not yet go in.

"Little one," Estel turned to him, "my room is a little further down the hallway. I will return soon, but for now you can stay a while with Dunnere and freshen up. Lord Glorfindel will shortly send for someone with warm water so that you may bathe. "

Harry really didn't like the fact that they were splitting up again. They had already had to leave Thurston and Halbarad behind with those wolves, and now Estel was going to go away too. He tried to shake off that feeling; Estel was just going to his own room for a while, it really shouldn't bother him. It was only a little ways down the hall and he wouldn't even be left alone; Dunnere was still with him. And, although Dunnere could not speak his language, the man was one of the first people he had met in this world and had still become a friend to him. With the man's familiar presence still with him, it would be all right.

Harry nodded and reluctantly let go of Estel's hand.

"Then I will see you in a little while, child," Estel said with a kind smile. Harry tried to summon a smile in return, but wasn't sure if he managed it. He looked up at Dunnere who smiled gently at him as well, before preceding him into their room. Harry followed quickly, and then looked back at the man and elf who remained outside the room. He received one more encouraging smile from Estel, before Dunnere nodded politely and closed the door between them.

  


* * *

  


They had not walked far before Aragorn broke the somewhat tense silence between them with a blunt statement. "I must speak with Ada." He told the elf next to him, his voice containing a note of worry that was easily discerned by the elf-lord.

"I will collect him for you." Glorfindel nodded as they reached their destination. He did not leave, though. And Aragorn was not surprised; he had noticed the elf-lord's reaction to hearing the elfling speak and knew that the elf would not leave him before knowing for sure.

"Estel, the child…?" came the expected, almost hesitant query.

Aragorn nodded before his friend could continue; "Yes," he answered softly. "I know not how this can be, or indeed, from whence he came. But the boy is indeed of elf-kind."

The elf showed no outward reaction to the news other than a sudden, almost unnoticeable tightening of his muscles. After a long moment of silence his friend finally spoke; "I will fetch Lord Elrond. We will speak after you have refreshed yourself."

"Thank you, my friend." He nodded to Glorfindel who gave him the barest nod in return before moving gracefully and swiftly back through the hallways of the Last Homely House.

Aragorn sighed and entered his room. Though his Ada and Lord Glorfindel were both very patient and composed, he knew that that patience was far from unending. And since an elfling was involved he was certain that instead of patiently waiting for him they would soon be back before his door, looking for answers.

'Now if only I had the answers to give them,' he thought with another sigh before quickly filling a basin with water and washing his face. A bath would have to wait. If he was lucky he would just have the time to change into another pair of clothes.

  


* * *

  


Lord Elrond had been working in his study, patiently awaiting his sons' return. He was hopeful that they would prove successful in driving of the wolves, and that they would make their way back to Imladris either this day or the next.

He sighed and put away his writing supplies. The day was coming to an end. Perhaps they would return tomorrow.

But as he was about to leave his study, Lord Glorfindel entered and informed him of recent arrivals.

He only just managed to hide his surprise when he heard that it was not the twins but his other wayward son that had found his way back to Rivendell.

The surprise could, however, _not_ be contained when his seneschal informed him that Estel had returned with an _elfling_ in his care.

  


* * *

  


Aragorn _did_ in fact have the time to change his clothes - and he was hastily combing his still dirty hair when the expected knock came.

With a sigh he mentally steeled himself and opened his door. As expected the two Elven-lords awaited him on the other side.

"Estel," his Ada greeted warmly but with a hint of worry. It was obvious that Lord Glorfindel had filled him in on what little he knew along the way. "It is good to have you home once more, though I was surprised to hear of your coming. And of whom you have brought with you…?"

Aragorn gave his adoptive father a small smile and a simple greeting before he moved back into the room, allowing the two elves entrance. Usually such discussions would take place elsewhere but Lord Elrond had made it clear from his opening statement that this was a conversation that would not be delayed by elven patience or the rules of politeness. Not that he had expected anything different; as family such formality was not necessary and he did not doubt that his Ada was just as astounded by the presence of an elfling as any other.

Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel shut the door behind them and elegantly seated themselves before turning to him expectantly.

"Halbarad and two other Dúnedain, Thurston and Dunnere, had come across a child by Eryn Vorn," he dutifully recounted. "They did not know then of the child's elven heritage, for indeed it did not even occur to them, but they easily perceived that the boy was lost and alone. The little one speaks and understands no Westron, but they thankfully managed to convince the boy to come with them." Aragorn did not even want to think of what would or could have happened to the elfling had the Rangers not found him or had the child refused to come with them. He silently thanked the Valar for looking out for the boy. "When they finally realised that the boy was of elf-kind, their plan of leaving the boy at the nearest human settlement was discarded immediately. By fortunate coincidence I had scheduled to meet with Halbarad at the Greenway, to hear his report and that is where I met the elfling." And what a surprise _that_ had been. "I am glad we managed to bear him safely here."

The two elf-lords listened to his account patiently and silently, their countenance betraying little of the emotions he knew they must feel.

Before either of them could form one of the questions Aragorn was sure they had, he continued and told them of his meeting with the twins, the encounter with the wolves and how he and Dunnere had ridden ahead with their precious charge.

Glorfindel was the first to speak after listening to his account of what had happened; "Four wolves will not long delay the twins and your Dúnedain, if they are already so near our borders. I do not believe it will be necessary to sent more elves to their aid. Nor will it be useful, since their encounter is surely over now, and it will not take them long now to reach Imladris," the warrior-elf spoke, focussing first on the more immediate issues.

Lord Elrond inclined his head in agreement; "I will be ready to receive them, and treat any injuries when they arrive," was all he said on the subject before moving on to the subject of the elfling. "The little one is now safely in the care of one of your men?"

It was Lord Glorfindel who answered; "They are in a room not far down the hall. I had water for a bath sent to them. The little one will no doubt be tired and might be resting."

Aragorn shook his head; "Though the child will be weary from travel, I fear that worry for our friends may keep him awake for a while. Also I had promised the little one that I would return shortly. I do believe he will wait for me. Whatever the case may be, though, Dunnere will watch over him until I speak to him again."

Once again, the more immediate concerns were addressed first, but now that that was done the time came for deeper probing, for questions to which Aragorn himself knew not the answers.

"How then, did this come to be, Estel?" his Ada finally queried. "Who is this little elfling, and from whence came he? And how could he have ended up so far from any elven settlement, all on his own?"

Aragorn sighed, those where indeed the very questions he had often times asked himself as well, since meeting the little one. But the child was so shy, quiet and unwilling to answer his queries and Aragorn had not wanted to push the boy. Besides, his first priority was reaching Imladris safely, the questions were far less important. But now that the child's immediate safety was assured such questions once more came to the forefront.

"I do not know," he answered honestly, "The little one is very quiet and withdrawn. He has come to trust us a little in our time together, I believe, but he is still so very guarded. Indeed, despite our days of travel he has not even entrusted us with his name."

Although there was only a small shift in the elves' faces, Aragorn had spent enough time with both of them to be able to read their concern.

"How did the child react to Elladan and Elrohir?" The lord of Rivendell asked with a thoughtful frown on his otherwise smooth elven visage.

Aragorn looked at his Ada and shook his head softly; "He took to them well enough, but was no more open to them than with my men, Lord Glorfindel or myself."

All three sat in silence for a long moment, their minds filled with concern and contemplation.

Finally Aragorn stood. "I promised the little one to return. I will bring them a late dinner."

He was unsurprised when both Elven-lords followed him without a word.


	14. Truth or Lie

The room Estel and the golden-haired elf-lord had left them in was large and airy with a bed and two chairs. Harry looked around him in wonder, taking in the gentle glowing lights, intricate carvings and soft, thin fabrics. It was a huge contrast to the simple but rough interior of their room in Bree and also very different from the bright, warm, comfy atmosphere of the Gryffindor dormitory that he still sometimes thought of as his room, despite having already graduated from Hogwarts.

After carefully having inspected the room he looked through a door to one side and saw that it was some sort of bathroom. Last, he looked out of the window and took in the breathtaking view of the gardens, twinkling lights, and beautiful buildings.

A knock on the door drew his attention and he watched as Dunnere opened the door to a tall, beautiful woman with the same pointed ears that were also hidden beneath his cloak.

The lady smiled kindly at both of them but did not speak as she filled the bath in the side-room with water. He was relieved when the elf left the room, glad that she, at least, wouldn't be there when he bathed. And though he was still slightly embarrassed by Dunnere's presence it wasn't that bad. He was very, _very_ glad that the man didn't seem to find the need to _help_ him, though Dunnere did glance his way occasionally.

Harry felt refreshed when he was done washing all the dirt from his travels off. Problem was, he didn't have any clean clothes. In the end he didn't put on the clothes he had worn, the only ones that actually fit him, but instead dug Halbarad's shirt from his pack, carefully laying aside the seashell that he had hidden inside the folded cloth. He also put on Thurston's cloak again and felt better having those little pieces of his absent friends wrapped around him.

Finally refreshed and dressed (for the most part), he dragged one of the chairs in the room closer to the window (no mean feat considering his current height). That done, Harry returned to where he had left his little shell and, under Dunnere's watchful gaze, picked it up before climbing on the chair by the window. There, sitting on his knees to see better, he peered outside, clutching tightly his little shell and hoping for his friends' safe return.

Harry became somewhat lost in thought. He had absently heard Dunnere quietly move around the room awhile ago but hadn't really paid the man much attention. It was comforting to know that he was there, though. While his eyes were still gazing out over the parts of Imladris he could see, his mind was tangling with less pleasant things.

He was worried about Halbarad and Thurston, and even about the elven twins – though he did not know them that well. A large part of him wanted to be there with them – wanted to have been the one _fighting_ , like he’d always been, instead of running away, _being_ protected and having to wait.

And besides being worried for his friends, he was also worried about _himself_. About what would happen now that they had reached the end of their journey. He still had Dunnere now, but what would happen if he, Estel and the others left him here? And what if these people, these elves didn't like him? What if he made a horrible elf? He didn't know anything about being an elf, what if he did it wrong?

He was actually relieved when another knock came, distracting him from such thoughts and he turned towards the door as Dunnere once again went to open it.

He was actually somewhat surprised to see it wasn't another elf-lady but Estel. Sure, Estel had told him he would come back soon but somehow, in this new place, this new situation, he wasn’t as sure as he would have been even a day ago, back out on the road. Seeing Estel open that door filled him with a great sense of relief – to know that even now he could still count on Estel.

Harry smiled as his friend entered their room and only now noticed that the man was carrying a tray of food; bread, fruits, nuts and some sort of pastries. He also noticed that Estel hadn't come alone. There were two elves with him.

The golden-haired elf was the very same he had already met in the hallway; Lord Glorfindel was how Estel had introduced him. And although Harry didn’t know anything about this world besides that it was slightly medieval, he could see tell that there was something important about this elf – even without the title of Lord, Harry would have known that this was a powerful, respected person.

The other elf looked very similar to the elven twins; he had the same long, dark hair and grey eyes. This elf also looked as if he was someone important, though Harry wasn't sure what it was that made him think that. It wasn't necessarily the clothes, though they did look fine, it was more… that the man, err… elf… had some sort of 'noble-ness' about him. It was different from Lord Glorfindel, less obvious perhaps, but still undeniably there.

"Hello, little one." Estel spoke gently, putting his tray on a little side-table before introducing his companions; "You have already met Lord Glorfindel," he started as the two elves moved forward into the room, and Harry nodded politely to the tall, blond elf before Estel went on. "I would also like you to meet Lord Elrond."

The dark-haired elf that approached him seemed tall and imposing at first, but despite the somewhat stern countenance the tall man had a kind look in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips. "Well met, child," he said gently and Harry could do little else but smile shyly in return from where he was still perched on his chair.

"Lord Elrond is the Lord of Rivendell and also my Ada, little one." Estel added and Harry blinked, he had been right about the importance thing, then. And though he wasn't sure how his human friend had ended up with an elf for a father he wasn't about to ask either. This, at least, explained how Elladan and Elrohir could be Estel's brothers. They were obviously the sons of Lord Elrond.

Whether this elf was Estel's real father or not, somehow it reassured Harry to hear that Estel at least _saw_ the man as his Ada. He knew that being related to someone trustworthy didn't automatically mean that they were good people as well; he had met (the portrait of) Sirius's mother. But _this_ was family that Estel wasn't hesitant to claim.

So he gave the dark-haired elf a smile and a soft "Hello."

  


* * *

  


All men (and/or elves) had piled into the room and shared the late dinner or evening snack. If it were just Estel, Dunnere and him it might have felt comfortable but now, in the presence of two important seeming elves, Harry felt sort of awkward and shy.

It was both amusing and strange how these two elven lords that were so powerful, tall and graceful were crowded into the room with the rest of them. Sure, it was large enough to fit them all, with high ceilings and beautiful decorations, but these elves seemed to Harry to belong in a more formal setting. In a great hall, like at Hogwarts, or a large official council room of sorts. Instead, after they had finished their food, Lord Elrond had drawn the other chair near to him and was seated opposite him, gently telling him a bit about Imladris. Lord Glorfindel was seated on the bed, his back leaning against the wall and his legs bent before him, looking far more dignified than Harry had believed possible in such a casual position. And Estel and Dunnere were in quiet conversation by the door.

When Lord Elrond’s descriptions of their hall of Fire ended, a moment of silence fell between them, broken only by a gently query from the elf-lord. "What are you holding, little one?" Lord Elrond asked him, his observant eyes taking in Harry's closed little fist.

"My sea shell," he answered, almost shyly, and he hesitantly laid it open on his small hand for Estel's Ada to see.

"It's very beautiful," the elf said, sounding completely serious and Harry almost felt like giggling at how silly that sounded, coming from the noble looking elf with ancient eyes.

Maybe that was why he continued, or maybe it was the safe, soothing feeling that he felt just as clearly from this elf as from the Elven-lord's twin sons. Maybe, just maybe, it was even because it was Estel's Ada. Or perhaps it was all of these things mixed together. Whatever the case may be, his soft sweet voice easily carried the words he had not even thought twice about saying; 

"I found it when I came here."

  


* * *

  


Those words alone might not seem very significant to most people.

But Lord Elrond was wiser and more observant than most, and Lord Glorfindel was certainly no less. And though Dunnere could not understand the child's words, Estel _could_ and watchful as he was, he had not missed that the child had carried that little shell with him on their journey to Bree, where he assumed the boy had put it in his pack. Nor did he miss that there was something odd in the way the elfling had said that. What did he mean 'here'?

"When you came where, little one?" Lord Elrond gently queried, and four pairs of keen eyes took in the slightly defensive shrug as the child replied; "I don't know, just… _here_."

  


* * *

  


"When you came where, little one?" came the gentle question from the elf-lord opposite him and he blinked and tried to keep his face neutral while he cursed himself in his head. 'Oh, bloody hell!' Harry thought, using Ron's favourite cuss word, 'That was stupid!' but outside he only shrugged; "I don't know, just… _here_."

That was the truth, as far as it went, since he still had no idea where 'here' actually was. Besides in another world, that is.

A moment of silence followed his unhelpful answer and he almost dared to hope that they would just leave it. Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere had never pushed such questions, thought that might have been because they didn't speak the same language. Even so, Estel hadn't insisted on answers either. He had always backed off when it became clear that Harry didn't want to talk about it.

The silence ended with Estel asking something of Dunnere and the man provided a few sentences worth of unknown words as an answer.

Had he ever mentioned how much he hated not being able to understand that language?

As if their breaking of the silence was a sign, Lord Elrond continued the gentle interrogation. 

"The Dúnedain found you just outside the woods of Eryn Vorn, is that not so?" Harry blinked at the use of the unknown names. So was that the name of the forest he had been in? And the Dúnedain, are those Halbarad and the others? Did that include Estel as well? After turning that sentence around in his head once more he nodded slightly, hoping he didn't look as confused as he felt.

It must have been alright, because the kind, gentle look on the elf's face didn't change. "Where were you before that, little one?" came the follow up question.

'Great. Now what?' Harry asked himself. He didn't want to lie to these people, but couldn't exactly tell them the truth either. "On the shore," he answered softly, avoiding the issue entirely, trying to delay the inevitable choice between the mad truth or less insane lie.

Estel's Ada nodded gently as if that was actually a helpful answer. "And that's where you found your little shell?"

'Oh yes, my shell,' Harry remembered, 'that's how this all started.' but somehow he didn't think it would end there. "Yes." Despite the fact that he was sure that now question time had actually started they wouldn't simply leave it at this he did have the slim hope that _maybe_ …

"And before you were on the shore, child, where were you then?" Lord Elrond's gentle probing extinguished the little spark of hope.

He nearly snorted, yeah, fat chance of him being _that_ lucky. Oh well, at least he could answer that honestly. "I don't know."

Harry definitely wasn't going to bring disembodied voices into the conversation if he could help it.

  


* * *

  


Lord Elrond blinked at him; "You do not know?" Harry had expected disbelief or sceptisism, but instead there was _concern_ in the elf's musical voice and that startled him.

Perplexed as he was, Harry just nodded mutely.

A moment of silence fell between them, very loud in the quiet room. From the corner of his eye he noticed that, though Dunnere was still watchful and silent by the door (not unsurprisingly because Harry knew that the man didn't understand the language), Estel had drawn closer to them and the elf-lord on the bed was paying careful attention to their conversation as well.

"How so, child? Do you not remember?" Lord Elrond continued with a slight frown when Harry made no other reply.

Harry looked down, feeling very self-conscious under everyone's gazes. He always hated being the centre of attention. Everyone stayed silent, patiently waiting for him to answer.  


"I remember," Harry said finally in a soft, almost silent voice, "but I don't know where I was."

"Ah," came the understanding sound from Estel's Ada and Harry lifted his head again to judge the elf's reaction. The slight frown that had come to the elf-lord's face when he had said he didn't know had melted again into a warm, gentle smile and the kind look in his eyes was still there. Harry nearly sighed in relief, though he wasn't sure _what_ , exactly he had been afraid to find instead.

The elf's patience seemed unending as he continued; "Can you tell me what it looked like where you were?"

'What it looked like?' Harry repeated the question in his mind, 'A whole bunch of nothingness, that's what,' was his mental reply.

There was little for him to do but to shake his head again. No, he really couldn't tell what it looked like, because it looked like _nothing_.

More silence and Harry unconsciously started to fidget a bit under their scrutinizing, patient gazes.

He had felt a bit guilty towards Halbarad, Thurston and Dunnere when he hadn't told them his name when they introduced themselves to him. That same feeling of guilt he felt now. These people had been kind to him also, but what else could he say? 'Yeah, there was just a bunch of nothingness. Really, nothing there beside these voices or invisible beings that somehow brought me here as an elf child,' he mentally rolled his eyes, 'like that would go over well.'

Estel was his _friend_ , and he actually _liked_ Estel's Ada as well, despite the uncomfortable questions. And though Lord Glorfindel was a bit… intimidating, the child-like side of Harry liked _him_ too. Both elves had been nothing but nice to him so far, plus, like with the twins, these elves made him feel… _safe_ somehow. As if some instinctive part of him knew without a doubt that they would never hurt him.

'It's probably something to do with the fact that they're elves,' Harry mused absently. 'But is it that way for everyone, like how Veela's attract all those of the opposite sex? Does it work like that, and do elves make everyone feel safe? Or is it because I'm an elf as well, now? Do I instinctively feel that they are safe because they are of my own kind?' After thinking it over for a moment he concluded that it was probably the second of those options, since it was the new, childish, elven side of him that felt this way.

Whatever the cause, though, he _did_ like these elves and not _just_ because of a 'feeling'; Lord Elrond seemed like a kind and patient person to him and he was Estel's Ada. He didn't want to lie to him. And he _definitely_ didn't want to lie to Estel.

Harry finally shook his head in answer to Lord Elrond's question, and looked down at his little seashell, avoiding their gazes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, shrugging his shoulders helplessly and feeling lower than low.

All he wanted now was a way out of this, he wanted them to stop looking at him, he wanted Thurston and Halbarad to come back safely and he wanted Estel not to hate him for being a liar, even if he hadn't _technically_ lied in answer to Lord Elrond's questions. He hadn't been entirely honest either and it bothered him a lot more than he thought it would. Or should.

"All is well, child," was Lord Elrond's warm, comforting reply that didn't really make him feel any better, "It is late."

The elf-lord stood and Lord Glorfindel with him, and both gave him another kind smile. "Time for us all to get some rest. You may stay here, little one, and your friend, Dunnere, will be in the room on your right, beside this one."

Not long after that, he had been left alone in the comfortable room with the reassurance that he could come to Dunnere if he needed anything and that Estel's room was just down the hall (Estel had even told him exactly which room was his and Harry had made sure to remember it, just in case.)

He climbed into the bed, the most comfortable bed that he had found himself lying in since coming to this world. Not that _that_ said a lot, since the only other bed he had slept in was the one in Bree and even that had been a large step up from sleeping on the ground.

Still, it was very comfortable. And despite that, he couldn't quite sleep.

He wasn't sure if he felt relieved when everyone left the room or not.

It was a relief that the questions had stopped, for now at least, but he hadn't been alone since just after coming to this world. And, although the first few days in the forest that Lord Elrond had called 'Eryn Vorn' had actually been quite fun and freeing, the memory of being alone in those woods made him feel somewhat frightened nonetheless. 'Which is silly,' he told himself firmly. Nothing bad had happened there; no monsters, wolves, Death Eaters, _nothing_. And yet, the place still bothered him.

He had seen a lot of scary things in his life, but the despair he had felt when he had lost sight of the men was far more frightening to him than the fear of monstrous creatures or being in dangerous situations. _Those_ he could handle. Well, he could have handled them before anyway - when he still had his magic and his wand. Even without those, thought, seeing those large, fierce wolves hadn't caused him to panic or feel nearly as scared as he had been that last day in the woods.

He tried to shake the memory off.

Sure, he hadn't really been alone since then, because he'd been travelling with Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere and later Estel, but that didn't mean he couldn't handle it now. Halbarad and Thurston would be fine, he told himself firmly, unwilling to believe otherwise, and Dunnere and Estel others are right there. Just not… _there_.

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself, and crawled out from under the covers.

For a split second he actually considered going to Dunnere or finding Estel but he dismissed that thought immediately. He may look like a child now, that didn't mean he had to act like one. His mind drifted back to how he had climbed trees, splashed around in a river with Thurston and played sword-fighting with Halbarad. 'Ok, maybe I have been acting a bit like a child…' he admitted to himself. 'But giggling or playing isn't the same as going to find them because I can't sleep.' It was entirely different and exactly where he drew the line; he had never turned to anyone for comfort, not even to Ron and Hermione. He _certainly_ wasn't going to start _now_.

Instead he picked up Thurston's cloak from where he had left it hanging on the chair by the window. He climbed into the chair once more and, securely enveloped in its warm, familiar comfort finally fell asleep long moments later.


	15. Welcome

When Harry woke up the sun was gently pouring through the window and bathing him in a gentle light. He stretched as he unfolded himself from the odd position he had slept in and carefully climbed down from the chair.

"Good morning, little one." A warm, familiar voice startled him slightly and he turned to find Estel sitting on the bed with a tray of food. "I have slept in very strange places and positions myself, but I don't think I have ever decided to sleep in a chair when there was a perfectly fine and empty bed right there."

Harry carefully looked at the man, wondering if he was angry or annoyed but Estel's smile was as kind as ever and there had been a slightly teasing tone to his friend's words. Harry smiled, reassured and, just because it was Estel he dared, for the first time since coming to this world, to reply in the same vein; "And yet you're sitting on the bed when there is a perfectly fine, empty chair right here." The teasing reply sounded strange in his sweet, innocent voice and he giggled at the odd-ness of it.

Estel merely shook his head at him, smile still firmly in place, and beckoned him over. "Come, child. I have brought you breakfast."

Despite the fact that Estel had said he brought it for _him_ , they ate the food together in a comfortable silence.

"Estel?" he finally asked, keeping his eyes firmly on a piece of bread he was fumbling with in his hands. "Did Thurston and Halbarad and your brothers get here yet?"

The man stopped eating and put his large hand gently on his tiny arm; "Not yet, little one." Estel said softly when Harry looked up, "But I'm sure they will arrive here very soon. They may have stopped somewhere for the night, or may have ridden slower than we did. After all, there would be no more wolves chasing them."

"Oh," he answered, slightly reassured but unable to completely stop worrying until he had seen them with his own eyes.

As if Estel somehow managed to discern his feelings just from his expression the man gently queried; "Do you wish to wait for them outside?"

"Yes," came Harry's soft but certain answer. He wanted to see them as soon as he could and make sure that they were really ok.

He looked at where he had put his sea shell, safely on one of the two little tables in the room and decided that it would be ok to leave it there for a little while. Instead of the shell he carefully took Estel's welcoming hand, smiling shyly as he was gently led from the room.

  


* * *

  


When they had arrived in Imladris the previous night it had seemed very peaceful and quiet to Harry. It was still both of those things but where they had only encountered a few elves in the halls that previous night, there were a lot more people now.

And this time, he walked with the hood of his cloak down. When they finally came outside there were even more elves there, and nearly all of them were staring at him. It was hard to discern the emotions of these people; their expressions where closed, silent and self-contained like the faces of statues. There was nothing there to tell him what it was they were feeling or thinking. What _were_ they thinking? What is it he could almost see in their eyes?

"Estel?" he whispered, fidgeting under the unrelenting gazes of the crowd "Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

The man smiled down at him; "They are curious about you, little one, and they are glad that you are here."

'Curious?' Harry thought, 'Well, maybe. But why would they stare at me because they are glad that I am here? Why would they be glad anyway?' he had been started at often enough, back in his own world and had often found that curiosity usually went hand in hand with either fear, awe, scorn or other suchlike emotions. And in this world there were the people in Bree…

"Why did the people in Bree stare at us, then?" he asked without thinking.

He could hear the hesitation in Estel's voice when he answered; "They… they were curious of us as well. We do not often visit the village and bringing a child along with us was… a cause for curiosity to them."

Harry slowed down, "They weren't just curious," his sweet voice said firmly, the uncomfortableness of being so scrutinized making him blunt, "They didn't like you."

He tugged on his hand, freeing it from the man's grasp so that he would stop being dragged along any further into the crowd of elves. Instead Harry wanted to go back inside, to the room he had slept in and wait for his friends there.

Estel stopped walking when Harry drew his hand free from the man's larger one and looked down at him now with a questioning expression.

Harry looked away from his friend and continued quietly; "In Bree, everyone was staring at you, and Thurston and Halbarad and Dunnere because they don't like you." Harry didn't want to walk any further in this city with everyone watching him, looking at him like… "But everyone here is staring at _me_." Harry's voice was still down to a whisper, and instead of becoming stronger with his agitation it fell to an even quieter tone. "Do you think…?"

'Do you think they're staring at me because they don't like me either?' the question was a simple one but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to finish it. It didn't matter what these strangers thought of him, anyway. It _shouldn't_ matter what they thought of him. But it did. They were elves, and he was an elf now, and Estel would probably leave him here with them…

He tried to shake those thoughts off, to ignore both them and the stares. 'I don't care' he told himself. He refused to show any further weakness in front of all these eyes.

But he did not _need_ to finish his question.

Because Estel was somehow capable of filling the rest in on his own.

His friend kneeled before him, bringing their faces level and took Harry's tiny hand again, looking him straight in the eyes. Harry found that he couldn't look away from that penetrating, grey gaze.

"No." Estel answered him, "They are glad you are here, little one." His firm voice had taken on a quality with that statement that Harry had never heard from him before.

It sounded a bit like Dumbledore when he was telling something of grave importance that the wizened wizard was completely certain of.

It sounded like a warrior who had seen and learned enough to shake off any hesitations and faced whatever his fate may be with complete and utter conviction and without any hint of fear.

It sounded like a leader, a king, a determined commander that any would follow to the end of the earth, should he ask it of them.

It sounded like the truth and Harry didn’t doubt the man for a second.

He did not hear the shocked and dismayed gasps of those who had been near enough to hear his whispered conversation with Estel, he did not notice how most of them immediately turned their gazes elsewhere, their hearts saddened by his uncertainty and wariness. All he saw were the determined grey eyes that held his own. And finally Harry nodded. 

The unfamiliar, serious and almost commanding expression that had spread over Estel's face in response to his question melted into a far more familiar smile. And the man gently held out his hand to Harry once more, who grasped it without pause.

Together they continued on through the beautiful gardens and past the curious elves to a spot near the stables where they could see any who approached the valley. 

There they sat quietly, ready to welcome their friends when they came - and both of them now also certain that they were both truly welcome here themselves.


	16. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* This chapter is a complete pov muddle. I've spend way too long wondering how to fix it - which one of the pov's to leave out or if there was a way to combine some... but in the end I just gave up and uploaded it like this. Hope you enjoy it anyway. :)

They had carefully watched the road for any signs of their friends and after a long moment of silently waiting Harry had gotten a bit… antsy. He hated being the one waiting for others to come back, worrying that they had gotten hurt. He shifted and scanned the road with again with his new, sharp, elven sight. Nothing.

Harry was barely restraining the urge to get up and start pacing when Estel drew his attention.

Hours later, Harry and Estel were still 'waiting' for their friends by the stables. The scene _had_ changed a little bit though.

And when the four eagerly awaited warriors finally came into sight of Rivendell, neither the watchful Dúnedan nor the elfling with his keen sight and hearing even noticed them, too distracted by other matters.

Harry had no time to watch out for new arrivals as he was far too busy trying to move past the 'fearsome dragon' that had stolen his precious cloak that may not have _really_ been made from 'the finest of spun gold'.

Estel was likewise engaged in other matters; trying to capture and 'eat' the impudent young warrior that had so unwisely ventured into his lair.

Naturally, neither of them had the time to watch the road. And the sound of hooves was too well masked by the potential dragon-slayer's laughter and the loud growls of the monstrous beast.

Unsurprisingly, it was therefore Lord Glorfindel, who had seated himself a little ways away and had been observing the 'fierce battle', who noticed the new arrivals first.

The golden elf's sharp eyes roamed over Lord Elrond's sons and their Dúnedain companions in search for any injuries. They easily picked out the bloodied bandage on the sword-arm of Estel's second in command. Another quick sweep with his eyes and he found no further wounds.

When the elf-lord rose and walked forward to greet them, Estel, and with him Harry, finally noticed their presence and the game ceased.

  


* * *

  


As always after any of their travels, be they long or short, the familiar first distant view of their home was a welcome sight to both of them.

Instead of the usual singing or peaceful silence however, this time the view was accompanied by growling sounds and the pure, sweet, tinkling laughter of an elfling.

It had been a long time since such a sound had been heard in Arda. Not since their sister's young days had they heard the light and playful music of an elfling's carefree laughter and both Elladan and Elrohir could not help but laugh themselves when they came closer and noticed that the instigator of the little one's mirth was the _other_ most recent child of Imladris. One who they had previously believed had long since left his childhood behind. The strange growling sounds and playful grabbing after the elfling by their brother belied that, however.

Since the two were playing so near to the stables and the valley's entrance the twins felt sure that the man and child had been vigilantly waiting for them.

And if these stalwart sentries did not even notice their very arrival, well, who could blame them?

  


* * *

  


Harry still wasn't sure _how_ exactly he had gone from anxiously waiting, to joyously playing with Estel.

He had forgotten all about the reason why they were out here in the first place until Estel suddenly stopped and turned his head. Only when his eyes fell on the small group of riders that was being greeted by Glorfindel did he finally remember.

Mere moments later he stood beside the elf-lord, shyly smiling up at his friends and caught in an immense feeling of relief that they had made it here alright. 

But that feeling was immediately replaced by its horrible opposite when he noticed that they _hadn't_ gotten through their fight with those wolves unharmed. One of Halbarad's arms was wrapped with a cloth that was soaked with blood and Harry felt himself grow cold at the sight.

Sure, he had seen worse injuries before, he had _had_ worse wounds than that, but that was in the wizarding world where nearly everything could be healed with a few potions, the flick of a wand or a phoenix's tears.

He was sure that in _this_ world Halbarad wouldn't be magically healed in just a heartbeat.

Standing there in one of the man's shirts, looking at the injury and feeling sure the man wouldn't even _have_ if he hadn't been bringing Harry to Imladris, he felt very small and lost. More than any other time since his arrival in this world he wished fervently for his wand and his magic. He may not have been a medi-wizard, but he could have fixed this back in his own world, with a few potions, with his magic – with his wand.

But now he couldn't. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, the defeater-of-Voldemort, and now he was too useless to even heal one of his first and few friends in this otherwise strange and unfamiliar world.

  


* * *

  


Halbarad sighed with relief when they came into view of the valley of the elves. He had only once been here before and knew that they would be welcome and find rest and healing here. He blinked when they came close enough for him to see the scene that greeted them; their Chieftain and young charge playing without reserve.

It was a welcome sight and he smiled at the feeling of fulfilment it gave him. Their fight against the evil and dangers that roamed these lands was often without reprise or thanks, done for the protection of the nameless strangers that lived here. But this time their battle had been in defence of this little one, and it was wonderful to be able to see who they were fighting for and to know without a single doubt that it was truly worth it.

He dismounted as they were met by Lord Glorfindel, who he remembered from his previous visit, and he gratefully returned the elf-lord's greetings.

Aragorn and the child had also noticed them by now and came forward to greet them. 

Halbarad nodded first at his leader and then turned his attention to the boy who now stood silently before them.

The silence was nothing new, as the child had always been a bit quiet but there seemed something wrong, that much he could divine from the boy's expression. Observant as he was, it did not take him long to determine the cause of the young one's distress.

"It is but a scratch, child," Halbarad gently told the boy who was eyeing the injury on his arm with horror.

The little one did not look up at his words, keeping his gaze on the Ranger's bandaged arm and Halbarad kneeled before him, putting his arm on the child's shoulder to draw his attention. This time the boy did meet his gaze.

"It's alright, little one," he told the child with a smile, trying to reassure the elfling through his tone of voice alone.

For a long moment the young elf stared at him, before finally giving him a small nod. The frightened, worried look left the child's eyes and was replaced by a more gentle, almost shy emotion.

Halbarad stood again, lightly brushing his hand over the child's head and turned to find the golden-haired warrior carefully observing his interactions with the child. Giving Lord Glorfindel a polite nod he smiled once more at the child.

"Come," the elf-lord spoke to him after a moment of silence. "I will lead you to the rooms of Healing."

After a short nod to his Chieftain and another short glance at the elfling he allowed Lord Glorfindel to lead him to the Healing rooms to see to the wound that had only hastily been patched up after the fight.

  


* * *

  


Harry wasn't sure what exactly Halbarad was telling him, but the man didn't seem very worried about his injury, nor did he appear to be in pain. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked?  
He wasn't entirely convinced about that, though.

Harry's gaze slid over to Thurston. He hadn't had the chance to make sure if Thurston was ok, either. What if he had also gotten hurt? He carefully looked the man over and saw that there was indeed blood on his clothes. But then, there was blood on the clothes of the twins and Halbarad too. And since they'd been fighting wolves with swords instead of magic they had been very close to the wolves and the blood could also belong to them. Harry shuddered lightly as he remembered the large animals that had attacked them. 'Fighting against them with swords, so close to their claws and teeth…' There was every chance that some of that blood on his clothes _was_ Thurston's as well.

Harry absently noticed that Lord Glorfindel said something to Halbarad, and suddenly started paying attention again when the wounded man started to follow the elf. Harry felt a rush of alarm. He knew that Halbarad's injury probably wasn't that bad, but he didn't know how such things could be treated in this medieval world. Besides, he really didn't want his friend to leave his sight so soon after having found him again, especially not before Harry could make sure that he was really ok.

He wanted to rush after Halbarad and follow them to wherever they were going now.  
But Thurston. How did he know if _Thurston_ was really ok? They'd only just come back and now he was going to have to leave one of them.

The childish part of almost felt like crying, from a strange mixture of relief of having them here and worry that they were hurt. Strangely enough that feeling was accompanied by a sense of determination and stubbornness and it was this far more familiar side of him that proved to be stronger.

Like in those crowded streets in Bree, there was no more thought or hesitation as he reached out to his very first friend in this world and firmly grabbed the man's hand.

He was going to keep an eye on _both_ of them until he was certain that they were really ok. With a strong tug on Thurston's hand he 'dragged' the man behind him and quickly followed Halbarad and the elf-lord inside, paying no more attention to Estel and the twin elves he left behind. Estel would be alright and he could look out for his brothers. Harry was going to look out for his other two friends instead.

  


* * *

  


They entered some sort of infirmary: there were basins, herbs, bandages and of course beds. The room was far more airy and light than the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts and it was Lord Elrond himself who arrived moments later and directed Halbarad to take a seat. The elf-lord's bedside manner would be a far improvement to Madam Pomfrey, Harry was sure, but there was really a lot to be said for the medi-witch's healing skills. No healer in a medieval world such as this would be able to trump that, not even Estel's Ada.

Harry nervously stood there, one of his hands still firmly grasping Thurston's larger hand, the other anxiously playing with the sleeves of his, no _Halbarad_ 's, shirt.

He was actually vaguely surprised no-one had kicked him out yet. Madam Pomfrey or the medi-wizards and witches in St. Mungo's would never have let someone stay while they healed someone.

But Harry wasn't asked to leave, so he hovered around his wounded friend as Lord Elrond undid the bandage, winced as the Elven Lord cleaned the gash and grew pale when he saw Lord Glorfindel fetch needle and thread. 'They are going to stitch it?' Harry's panicked thoughts yelped and he finally released Thurston's hand to move closer to Halbarad. Thuston was fine for now, but Halbarad…

For the first time since coming to the infirmary, Lord Elrond turned his attention to him. "Do not worry, young one." Estel's Ada told him in a reassuring tone of voice, "your friend will be well."

Harry nearly snorted and only barely managed to keep his sarcastic thoughts to himself; 'yeah, sure. Everything's going to be just fine. You're just going to take that needle and poke my friend with it! ' he knew he was overreacting but he couldn't seem to help himself; his friend was hurt and instead of waving a magic wand or… or feeding Halbarad a potion Lord Elrond was just going to hurt him further! He tried to tell himself that he was being stupid, that Estel's Ada was _helping_ Halbarad but it was difficult to keep that childish side in check after everything else that had happened; the wolves, being separated from the Thurston, Halbarad and the twin brothers, worrying about them, his conversation with Lord Elrond and then the long night of fitful, worried sleep. And now that his friends were _finally_ here, Halbarad was hurt!

He didn't say any of these things out loud, instead he attached himself firmly to Halbarad's other arm and focussed his anger, fear and helplessness in a powerful glare aimed directly at the Lord of Imladris.

  


* * *

  


Glorfindel started when he noticed the baleful glare the young elfling sent his lord's way. It was a strange look on such a sweet face and as a result it made a far more amusing sight than the little one probably intended. He managed to keep the smile that tugged on his lips away by reminding himself that the child was probably frightened and worried for his friend. Instead of giving the needle and thread to Lord Elrond he set them on a nearby table and fetched one of the herbs, a basin and a can of water instead.

It was no surprise to him that Elrond immediately grasped his idea and showed no signs of anything unusual happening when he expertly created a thin paste from what he had brought to the healer.

While Lord Elrond was so occupied, he turned to the child whose face now also betrayed the smallest hint of confusion. "The paste will numb the pain, little one." Glorfindel soothingly told the elfling, never mentioning that it was not often used for warriors when they needed only a very few stitches. He knew that Halbarad did not truly need such a paste and that, if the man ever told Estel about this, the Dúnedain's Chieftain would laugh in surprise and remember the numbing paste from his own childhood. A warrior would not ask for such a thing unless the pain was truly severe but on children and ladies it would surely have been used for such an injury.

The Lord of Imladris started spreading the paste gently over the wound and Glorfindel finally let the smile come to his face when he noticed that the little one was having a difficult time glaring at Lord Elrond and curiously watching him work at the same time.

  


* * *

  


When Lord Elrond was done with the numbing paste, the elf reached for the needle and Harry quickly glanced up at his friends. Thurston gave him an encouraging smile, as though it was Harry himself who had to get the stitches and Halbarad looked completely calm. He kept his hold on Halbarad's other arm and his eyes on the man's face until Lord Elrond was done.

When it was finally over and a new bandage was wrapped around his friend's arm Harry let go of his death-grip on the man's other arm and sighed in relief. When Halbarad gave him a familiar kind smile, Harry couldn't stop himself from burying himself in the man's chest. He told himself that it was just a hug to make _Halbarad_ feel better, since he had gotten hurt and then had to have stitches. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Harry's own jumbled emotions of fear, guilt and relief. The man's arms gently came around him and held him while Halbarad spoke to him with calm, warm words that Harry still didn't understand, but understood well enough anyway. Halbarad's reassuring presence soothed him until the anger, helplessness and fear disappeared and only the relief remained. Then, only then, did Harry carefully let him go and looked up at the man with an embarrassed blush and a small, shy smile.

His friend gave him another smile in return and stood up, turning to Lord Elrond and saying something, coupling the words with a polite bow. If Harry had to guess the man was probably thanking the elf.

Harry felt embarrassment creep up again and wondered if Estel's Ada had noticed how he had glared at him. Feeling fed up with his own silly childishness and deciding to do the mature thing for once, he came to stand next to Halbarad and, after the man had finished speaking, added his own soft "thank you for helping Halbarad feel better".

It probably would have seemed even _more_ mature if he hadn't kept his eyes on the floor the entire time, but it's the thought that counts, right?


	17. Amongst Friends

Harry was relieved when they left the two elves and the infirmary behind. He walked with Halbarad and Thurston through the hallways before once more stepping out into the gentle sunlight. He wasn't sure where the two men were going and didn't really care all that much, as long as it wasn't another wolf infested forest or needle-and-thread infested infirmary.

It was indeed neither of those things.

His friends merely walked some distance from the large building and chose an out-of-the-way spot to sit on the grass there. The two men quietly talked amongst themselves, and occasionally said some gibberish words to Harry in kind and quiet tones.

Harry sat silently and studied them with his eyes; the men were still in the clothes with which they had come to Rivendell and, bloody, torn and dirty as those clothes (and the men in them) were, his friends showed no intention of going to the large house to freshen up and get changed. Then again, Harry himself was also still wearing Halbarad's too large, travel-worn shirt, not that he cared much; proper clothing had never been one of Harry's main priorities in life. Apparently his friends didn't much care about it either.

Halbarad really didn't seem to be in any pain; his eyes were clear, his body relaxed and his tone of voice was calm. Thurston didn't seem too worried either, in fact, the man was more at ease than Harry had seen him be during their entire journey. The air of watchfulness that all his new friends seemed to have was still there, somewhat, but much less present than while they were on the road, or during their stay in Bree.

Seeing his friends relaxed like this reassured him more than any words ever could. So Harry let their familiar voices and solid presence wash over him and things finally seemed to be alright again. Sure, he was still in a strange world, in the body of an elf-child, completely helpless without his wand and with no conceivable way of getting back to his own world… But the wolves were gone, they were all safe, his friends were here and they were ok. Compared to many of the situations Harry had found himself in this was definitely not a bad one.

They must have stayed there for at least an hour before Dunnere and Estel and the elven brothers joined them with a large, late, lunch.

Harry couldn't help smiling, glad that they were all together again.

Strangely enough, the presence of Elladan and Elrohir didn't lessen how comfortable their little picnic was. Harry had spent a lot more time travelling with just the four men, and the twin elves weren't as familiar as the others, not just because he didn't know them as well but also because they were elves and despite the fact that Harry was now more or less an elf as well they still seemed strange and alien to him. But they were Estel's brothers and, more importantly, they had fought those wolves alongside Thurston and Halbarad. They had stood beside his friends in battle and had brought them back (mostly) safe and sound. For Harry that was enough.

So he relaxed and, seated between Thurston and Estel, felt a safety and warmth that only some rare peaceful moments with Ron and Hermione or with Sirius could rival.

  


* * *

  


They stayed outside for hours, first eating and talking, then laughing and joking and now, somehow, Harry found himself hiding up in a tree from one of Estel's brothers. He couldn't help the little giggle that escaped him when he saw the tall elf make a show of looking around in search of him. From what little he had seen of the elves and from what he had experienced himself of his improved hearing and eye-sight he knew that the guy he had jokingly agreed to be uglier than his identical brother knew _exactly_ where he was.

It was almost surprising how quickly he had gotten comfortable around those two. Maybe it was because they seemed more human than the other elves? Most of them seemed so… 'otherworldly' to him. The aura around Lord Glorfindel was so overwhelming that it made him feel shy and little and Lord Elrond was the Lord of Imladris and had an air of noble-ness and importance. 

But Estel's brothers were more down-to-earth, and showed a playful side that reminded him almost painfully of the Weasley twins. He could have easily pictured Fred pulling the exact same stunt as Elladan… or Elrohir, Harry wasn't sure… But when one of those twins had made a joking jab at the other, winking at Harry when he did so, Harry couldn't resist putting in his own two cents. His innocent agreement had caught both of them off guard but it had taken only a moment for the elven twins to see through his innocent façade and locate the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. One of them had burst out in laughing while the other looked at him in disbelief. Harry had giggled and jumped up, rushing away before the elf could shake himself out of his shock. Experience with Fred and George had taught Harry that a quick getaway was usually the only thing that could save him from (or at least delay) retribution.

Harry sighed, the laughter retreating from his eyes. He missed them.

Life in this world seemed so strange and with everything that had been going on; the travelling, the wolves and the worry over his new friends… Harry hadn't really had the time to stop and realise that this wasn't a situation that he could somehow, magically, find his way out of. He was somewhat used to ending up in impossible situations and had always found his way back to his friends before but now… He had been brought here by some strange voices; invisible, powerful beings. How could he possibly go up against that? Did he even really want to? His own world hadn't exactly felt like 'home' anymore either.

But Hermione, Ron, the twins, the other Weasleys, Remus and Tonks… He still missed them. They had become his family, his only real support in his world and in his life. There weren't that many people he allowed to come close to him, not that many people that he trusted fully and completely. It was hard to suddenly be without them again. He knew he had already been drifting apart from them even while he was still in his own world but that didn't make the fact that he was now so far beyond their reach any less painful.

He shook himself out of such depressing thoughts, there was, after all, nothing he could do about that now.

When Harry blinked from the thoughts of his home world, back to the here and now he nearly jumped in surprise when he noticed the two elves that had since joined him in the tree.

The elf on the branch next to him smiled as Harry turned to look at him but both he and the other twin remained silent. Their joking air and the mock anger were no longer found in their face. Instead both of them quietly and unobtrusively kept him company.

Harry didn't feel like going back down yet now that his own carefree mood had vanished and neither twin made any comment that they should be headed back to the others.

So he stayed where he was, listening to the wind, breathing in the woodsy smell and feeling the soothing, solid presence of the tree. For some reason those things made him feel at peace. Despite the fact that he was so far from home and not even _himself_ anymore he felt welcomed by everything around him. 

It wasn't enough to take away the sting of being separated from everyone he cared for in his own world. Nor was it even as warm and wonderful a feeling as when Halbarad had given him his shirt or when Estel had taken him by the hand or even just now when they had all been reunited. Instead, what he felt from his surroundings was a more solitary sort of welcome and contentment; the way he used to feel as a child when he hid for hours in the library during the summer vacations to evade Dudley; a little sanctuary, just for him, where he was safe and welcome. Here he wasn't alone, but the two silent elves didn't bother him. Elladan and Elrohir seemed to understand, somehow, and seemed to be listening to the trees as well.

Harry didn't know how much time had passed when he snapped out of his silent state of listening and sensing the world around him. He had noticed it before, when he arrived in this world and stood on that shore, how much more he could 'feel' in his surroundings now that he was different. It hadn't seemed too long that he had sat there, listening, but on the other hand it did seem very long ago that he had climbed the tree. He wasn't sure how long it had really been and decided it didn't really matter.

He turned his attention away from such irrelevant thoughts to the gentle song from the twins that had brought him out of his reverie in the first place. Estel's brothers had beautiful voices that became even more wonderful while singing, and their song seemed to blend perfectly with the sounds of nature around them.

Harry smiled when their song slowly went from a gentle peaceful melody to something a bit more cheerful. The transition was so smooth that he had hardly noticed it. Harry couldn't help but think of the Weasley twins bungling the school song despite the fact that Elrohir and Elladan didn't seem very mischievous at the moment. Once the comparison between the two sets of twins had come to his mind it was difficult to shake off. This time the thought of his friends in his own world didn't make him sad. Instead the comparison was a welcome one making him feel more at home and bringing a smile to his face. 

It seemed impossible to feel sad while listening to the cheerful elven song. His own mood seemed to change with the song and Harry absently wondered if there was, perhaps, some sort of magic to it. The image of Fawkes came to him then, another glimpse home, and it mingled with the visions of gentle streams and cheerful forests that seemed to accompany the elven melody. Harry remained in this dreamlike state until the last words gently flowed from the twins' lips and in the following silence he smiled, feeling almost refreshed.

After a moment of silence Elladan and Elrohir gracefully jumped down from the tree. "Come, little one." one of them called to him with a gentle ring to his voice, "it is time we return."

Harry took one last look at the around him, feeling the wind and leaves gently brush by him, he put his hand on the bark of the tree he was in and whispered a soft thanks before finally following the dark-haired elves with a somewhat lighter heart.

  


* * *

  


Harry went with the twin elves back to large building he had slept in the night before. He felt as if he had had a strange experience; something magical and otherworldly that made the new, childish, _elvish_ part of him feel happy and at peace.

Still, he was relieved when he saw Thurston waiting for him at the entrance and the earlier, almost ethereal experience was replaced by something far more familiar and more human than the beautiful song of the trees and the elves. Thurston's kind voice, the rougher, less melodious language that had become familiar to Harry and the friendly warmth in the man's eyes shook of the last remnants of the strange spell that had seemed to enfold him while in the tree.


	18. What's in a Name?

While being led through the corridors of Imladris, Harry had glimpsed through a pair of heavy doors the sight of the large hall which was probably meant for meals. It reminded him a bit of the Great Hall of Hogwarts because there was a main table set on some sort of raised dais which was similar to the teacher's table at his old school.

When the time came for dinner, Harry wasn't led there, to his great relief, but instead found himself once more in 'his' room.

It was just him and his human friends with whom he had travelled this far. As they ate and talked quietly, he felt himself relax in such soothing familiarity. Despite the relief of his friends' safe return and the relaxing afternoon he had spent outside with Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere, Estel and the two elves, Harry had felt some of his anxiousness return when they had re-entered Lord Elrond's house. The presence of so many people, _elves_ , and the idea that everyone probably still had many questions they wanted him to answer had made him more than a little worried.

But now, they were all safely together, in his room. Dunnere and Estel had dragged the two chairs so that they were opposite to the bed which Harry, Thurston and Halbarad were using as a couch. Surrounded by his friends like this, Harry didn't feel crowded, like he would have been had it been other people around him, sharing a meal. Instead the warmth of their company was just as it had been while they travelled together; a warmth of welcome and quiet acceptance that had been so rare for him in his own world. It made him feel more comfortable than he felt with anyone else, save Ron and Hermione.

That feeling did not last, however.

After dinner most of his friends bade him what he assumed was a 'goodnight' of sorts, and with a nod and a smile left the room. Only Estel stayed were he was, opposite Harry in the chair furthest from the door.

This didn't worry him until a knock sounded lightly on the door and they were joined by an invasion of elves. Ok, maybe 'invasion' was a bit of an overstatement, since there were just the two of them; Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel and Harry already knew them. But both of these elves had a large ‘presence' that seemed to spread out from them and fill the room. Now, with both of them entering together, his room, which had been more than large enough to seat him and his human friends comfortably during dinner, suddenly felt far too small and Harry felt his comfortable-ness suddenly shift into a dawning dread.

It wasn't that he disliked these elves. On the contrary, they both seemed very nice and they had helped Halbarad and hadn't made Harry leave while his friend was being healed. But he remembered the question session from the previous night and didn't have a doubt that it would continue now.

Harry shifted uneasily in his place on the bed. 'Crap. I had hoped that they were done with this part.' He had truly wanted to believe that they would have given up on their questions. 'Yeah, as if that was even a possibility, with my kind of luck.' Really, who had he been deluding? Things were never that easy. He shot a quick glance to Estel, reassuring himself of his friend's presence. 'At least Estel's still here,' he thought with a small amount of relief, not sure _why_ it mattered so much to him, only that it did.

"Hello, little one." Lord Elrond greeted him, smiling gently. "Can we join you for a time?"

Since he didn't think that 'hell no' would go over well he just nodded mutely, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one.

  


* * *

  


Glorfindel followed Lord Elrond into the elfling's room. The little one was still dressed in the large, travel stained shirt and the green cloak that had been given to him by one of the Dúnedain. Vibrant green eyes peeked out at him from under the messy dark hair.

His observant eyes did not miss the child's nervousness or the way he looked to Estel for reassurance. It was strange and somewhat saddening that an elven child would feel uncomfortable around them and he wondered what had caused it.

Outwardly, however, he gave no indication of his worries and seated himself in one of the two chairs, leaving the elfling his space on the bed so that he would not feel crowded. The young one seemed to calm slightly when Estel moved to place himself on the bed next to him, leaving the other chair for the Lord of Imladris.

Lord Elrond had certainly been right in his belief that it was best to speak to the elfling here, in the familiarity of his room and with Estel present, instead of bringing the boy to his study to speak there. The little one was clearly anxious enough as it was.

Since the boy was so skittish they did not want to push too hard for answers, but still they wanted to know how an elfling came to be on his own in the wild… especially since there had been no word of one even being _born_. Although the elfling was now, thankfully, safe in Imladris it was still a very worrisome thought, that the little one had been out there all by himself.

And, if nothing else, Glorfindel felt they could not go much longer without at least knowing the child's name.

  


* * *

  


To Harry's surprise, instead of immediately focussing their entire attention on him, the two elf-lords and Estel started talking amongst themselves, in the language that he had no trouble understanding. Occasionally an irrelevant question was sent his way, inviting him to join the conversation. It was small talk and Harry realised that they were probably trying to ease him into the harder questions.

He wasn't wrong, but he had been expecting them to pick up where they left off last time; with queries into where he had come from. Therefore the question as to what his name was; "Since we can't keep calling you little one forever, now can we?" according to Estel's gentle teasing, caught him entirely off guard.

His name.

Such a simple question, but one he was very reluctant to answer. He hadn't wanted to give Halbarad, Thurston and Dunnere his name when they introduced themselves to him because he was cautious and unsure about what had happened and what sort of situation he was in.  
But now… now that he had gone without using his name ever since he was sent to this world… now he was somehow even more hesitant to suddenly reveal his real name. There was still so much he didn't know about this world or even about what he had become… an elf. 

Was Harry a bad name for an elf? It sounded very unlike anything else he had heard so far. Not that he wanted to lie, but the new part of him, the child, the elf… was he even still Harry Potter now that he wasn't in his world, and wasn't even _human_ anymore?

Did he _want_ to be?

He was still himself, wasn't he?

"I…" Harry stammered, eyes wide as his thoughts whirled frantically, but failing to come up with an answer. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, feeling more like a child than he could ever remember feeling before.

He wasn't sure of a lot of things anymore.

Harry fidgeted under the gazes of Estel and the two elves, whose inquiring eyes were patiently waiting for an answer that he wasn't sure he could give them. Finally he could take it no more and abruptly stood up, sliding quietly off the bed.

Without a word he moved to the little table at the window that held his seashell, his lone possession in this world. He picked it up and automatically closed his eyes for a silent moment, drawing comfort from its smooth, cool touch. A heartbeat passed before he opened his eyes once more, and, ignoring the probing looks he felt from the other occupants of the room, he fixed them determinately on the little white shell in his hand. He carefully examined it; his eyes trailing the grooves and dark lines as if it might contain the answers that he couldn't find himself.

  


* * *

  


The two elven lords exchanged worried gazes. Estel had half risen from his own seat on the bed at the child's sudden movement, but made no further motion to follow the elfling. All three of them felt uncertain how to respond to what the little one had said. Or rather, what he hadn't said. They could easily perceive that it was more than a hesitance to trust them that prevented the child from answering.

Did he not know he who was? But that idea seemed almost absurd.

It was Glorfindel who recovered first and carefully moved to join their charge at where he stood by the window, in front of one of the little tables. When the little one did not look up from his seashell, the tall elf gracefully lowered himself onto one knee beside him so that he was no longer towering over the child. He made no move to touch him, quietly letting his presence wash over the little one and watching as the elfling studied the object in his hand with a far greater intensity than a seashell usually warranted.

His voice was a soft and calm as a gentle summer breeze when he finally spoke. "We do not need to find all the answers today, young one."

The elfling finally broke his gaze away from the shell, and when bewildered emerald eyes met his own he felt his heart resound with an intense feeling of compassion and protectiveness for the way the child seemed desperately lost. Almost unconsciously he gently took the elfling's free, small hand and engulfed it in his own. The lost look on the boy's face was replaced by a startled one and he found himself smiling warmly in response.

"Listen, little one," he started gently, "when Estel first came to live with us, many years ago, that was not his name. He came here with his mother and bore his human name, given to him by his father at birth. And although it is a good and fitting name, he keeps it close to his heart and oft-times uses the name of Estel instead." While telling this little story the golden elf-lord turned slightly towards the others in the room, wordlessly inviting them to join them.

"Yes," came Estel's soft agreement, "It is a name Lord Elrond gave to me when he adopted me and although I already had a name I was glad to receive another one, an elvish name, because it made me feel welcome in my new home."

  


* * *

  


Harry tilted his head slightly as he thought this over. He was somewhat surprised to learn that Estel was not Estel's real name but after a moment of consideration he decided that it didn't really matter. It had already been obvious that Lord Elrond wasn't Estel's birth father, still Harry found that he liked hearing about Estel's past directly like this. It made him feel more connected to his friend, especially since…

He looked from Estel to Lord Elrond and then to Lord Glorfindel beside him. "You are saying…" Harry started uncertainly, glancing between all occupants of the room once more before finally resting his eyes on Estel's Ada. "I could be given a name too?"

… Estel had had a new beginning here too.

  


* * *

  


In the silence that followed his uncertain question Harry dropped his gazed quickly back to his shell and turned the thought over in his head. On one hand it made sense; he wasn't exactly Harry Potter anymore, even though he still had his scar… just starting over in this new world, with a new name… it was both tempting and frightening. He had already lost _everything_ when he was suddenly thrust into this new world, not even as himself but as a child and an elf. Now that he _did_ have a choice, could he really make the decision to lose his name as well?

"…if that is what you wish, yes we could give you a name." Lord Elrond's thoughtful voice broke through his hazy thoughts.

Harry glanced back up at these words, studying the elf lord seated calmly in the chair. He still wasn't completely sure what to make of this… if he let them give him a name, what would that mean? Would that mean he would have to stay here? He didn't know anything about these elves and their habits, culture and history. Just like when he was first thrown head-first into the wizarding world he once again found himself uncertain of exactly what was considered 'strange' or 'normal' here. But _this_ time, Harry was far less willing to bumble along.

He turned to Estel, the only human and the only really familiar person there and directed his question to him. "But what would that mean?"

"What do you mean, little one?" Estel asked, with a look of slight puzzlement.

Harry frowned in slight annoyance, his uncertainty falling away in the face of new determination; "If they give me a name, would that mean that this is my home now?"

Estel's grey eyes seemed to search his own, both of them ignoring the two elven lords completely. Harry felt like fidgeting under that weighing gaze, unsure why his friend was looking at him like that. It wasn't that strange a question, was it?

"Little one," Estel finally answered, his voice taking on a quality that he had occasionally noticed before when Estel spoke; a soft strength, gentle but determined. "it is not by words or even a name that a place becomes a home. Still I hope that with time Imladris will become a home to you as much as it has become one for me."

This time it was Harry's eyes that attempted to uncover the very soul of each recipient. After a moment of judging Estel's sincerity, his piercing gaze rested on Lord Glorfindel, where he was still kneeling patiently beside him, for a long, silent moment before it finally reached the Lord of Imladris.

Finally, the tension eased from his form and Harry relaxed.

He couldn't be absolutely sure, but these people had been honest and patient with him so far and their eyes seemed kind, concerned and sincere. He was still a bit unsure about this, but he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing; jumping into unknown situations was kind of his thing. At least this time it didn't seem too dangerous.

"I would like to have a name." He said softly. A _new_ name, but there was no reason to add that and stir their curiosity anew. He didn't really feel like 'Harry Potter' anymore anyway. Maybe he never truly had. 'Harry Potter' was a wizarding hero. 'Harry' was a boy unwanted by his family and later on a teenage wizard who actually had friends and played on the Quidditch team. Neither of those were who he was now.

The two elves sat silently for a long moment while Estel gave him a gentle, reassuring smile. It was Lord Elrond who spoke, a long, thoughtful moment later. "Very well."

For a few heartbeats the elven lord seemed lost in his own thoughts, his face becoming serious before his mind seemed to return to Harry, who was nervously fidgeting in his place, and his ancient eyes lost their grave look. His mood seemed to shift back to a more light-hearted one as their eyes met and the elf-lord's face regained a warm smile. "Than I give you the name of Ellas"

'Ellas…' it sounded kind of strange to him but he supposed it was better than going by 'child' or 'little one' for the rest of his time here. He gave the elves a small smile. It would do.

"A good name." Lord Glorfindel approved with a slight smile of his own, giving the hand he still held a gentle squeeze of encouragement, before finally releasing it.

"Ellas." Estel repeated the name softly with a warm smile on his lips that Harry couldn't help but return, the uncertainty now falling away completely. It was strange how having his friend use his new name made him feel warm and welcomed. Despite the fact that he had been unsure about whether or not he wanted a new name at first, now there was suddenly no more hesitation. He walked back to the bed and settled down beside Estel again, a happiness that originated from the childish, elven part him quietly soaring through his soul.

He had a new name, an elvish name, given to him by Estel's Ada.

And, like Estel, he would keep his own name, his real name, close to his heart.

He didn't want to lose it, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks to Demkat of FF.net for beta-ing this chapter. :)


	19. In the Care of the Elves

Still somewhat aglow with the warmth that had come to him when he was given his new elvish name, Harry sat happily on the bed by Estel's side, feeling a strong sense of connection to the man who had also started his life anew here in Imladris.

Unfortunately, he was shortly brought back to reality when Lord Elrond continued his gentle questioning.

"Little one," Lord Elrond spoke, drawing the newly dubbed Ellas' attention back to the dignified elf. The Lord of Imladris seemed almost to hesitate for a moment before forging on: "Can you tell me where your parents are?"

'Well,' thought Harry with a somewhat dark sense of amusement, 'This, at least, is an easy enough question to answer.'

"They died," he said simply. Although the looks of sympathy on the faces of Estel and the Elven Lords were not completely unexpected after such a declaration, Harry was still startled by the intensity of their compassion. Estel almost instinctively wrapped an arm around him, as though to shield him from the past tragedy, or perhaps to reassure him of the fact that he, at least, was there. And though Estel's half-embrace felt warm and safe, it also made Harry feel awkward, especially since he didn’t really need the reassurance.

It is hard to truly miss someone you never really knew. While growing up with the Dursley's no one had seemed to care about what had happened to his parents or what they’d been like. To him, they had merely existed as an abstract thought, a 'what if?' that he couldn't help but indulge in sometimes, during the long, silent nights alone in his cupboard. Or they were an occasional cruel remark casually thrown out by his Aunt or Uncle. It was only later, when he went to Hogwarts and met people that had known, really _known_ his parents, that they became _people_ to him, rather then a concept or idea. But even then, he could never completely know what they might have been to him, as _parents_. It was a void that he'd never had a chance to fill.

Of course, he'd heard the stories – tantalising traces that could not possibly encompass the whole of what they had been. James and Lily were described to him as they had been during their years at Hogwarts; as students and later heroes by Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, as an archenemy and as a dear friend by Professor Snape, as a fellow Marauder and a studious but lively redhead by Remus and Sirius. But these versions James and Lily were so diverse and incomplete that they show him only the tiniest glimpses of what might have been. Of the parents he _could have_ had.

Because of this, the compassion and sympathy that Estel, Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel were giving him so freely seemed uncomfortably misplaced. A part of him felt like he didn't deserve such attention for his loss. Lord Elrond's sad smile and Estel's warm hug made him feel awkward and vaguely guilty, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"It was long time ago…" Harry hesitantly offered, trying to soften the blow and wanting to move past the sombre moment. "…I never even knew them." he added a long second later, when no movement or reply came from any of the room's occupants.

This last sentence finally seemed to break the spell that held the elves motionless, though, not quite in the way that Harry had planned it. Lord Elrond slowly leaned and placed his large hand on one of his own.

"I am sorry to hear that, child," Estel's Ada told him, the genuine sorrow in his eyes doing nothing to erase Harry's awkwardness.

He shifted slightly in Estel's hold, feeling uncomfortable with everyone trying to comfort him about something that happened a long time ago, in a different world. He felt like he should be saying something, but he had no idea what. In the end he just nodded and hoped that that would be the end of it.

  


* * *

  


He should have expected such news. Indeed, Glorfindel had felt it a distinct possibility, but still he had hoped in his heart that he would be proved wrong.

There was no way any child, _especially_ an elfling, could have ended up lost and alone in the wild unless he was separated from those who cared for him. Still, to hear from the elfling himself that the little one had lost his parents, and at so young an age that he barely remembered them was distressing indeed, and he grieved to hear it.

And yet there still remained the question; since his parents had gone to the Halls of Mandos so long ago, than whose care had the child been in before he ended up in Eryn Vorn?

His strategic mind easily drew a connection to the elfling's apprehensions. It was clear to them all that the root of the child's withdrawn manner lay in more than just shyness. It had already been discussed earlier between Lord Elrond, Erestor and himself; how strange and troubling it was that the elfling seemed so hesitant even amongst elves. They had been shocked and grieved to hear that the little one had actually compared the looks of the curious elves to the hateful stares the Dúnedain were wont to receive from onlookers in Bree.

What would have made the little one so uneasy even with his own kind? No elf would ever purposefully have harmed an elfling. It was unthinkable, impossible. So what could have caused such reluctance?

The obvious answer seemed to be that since no elf could have been the cause of the little one's distress it must have been some being other than an elf: man, dwarf or perhaps, thought his blood ran cold to even _think_ it, even the goblin or orcish races. But the elfling still should have known that he would find only safety and welcome amongst his own people. Unless… he had rarely even been amongst his own kind.

The answer to his earlier question, then, was easily found. Whoever his caretakers had been after the death of his parents, they could not have been of elf kind. Otherwise, surely the child would know that he had nothing to fear from the elves. Not to mention that the elflings' existence would have been widely known and celebrated by all - and the child would _never_ have been left to fend for himself.

Glorfindel blinked, rousing himself from his brooding thoughts, and looked at little Ellas. He took in the way the elfling squirmed in Estel's grasp and how he did not meet anyone's eyes for more than a few moments. The child was clearly uncomfortable and he did not believe it necessary to pressure the elfling further after such a telling revelation.

"Perhaps it is time we leave young Ellas to his rest?" he suggested, giving the child a gentle smile that widened when he received a grateful look from the boy in question.

It was sad to know that there was no possibility of reuniting the young one with his parents. And the implications of the elfling's withdrawn manner were very troubling.

But for now, at least, it was enough for them to know that Ellas was exactly where he should have been all along: safely in the care of the elves.

  


* * *

  


A soft, nearly inaudible sound woke Harry, _Ellas_ , from a light, strangely tranquil sleep. He vaguely recalled how his dreams had been filled with images and intangible thoughts reminiscent of the hours he had spent in the trees the day before. Now, upon waking, the song of the wind, the trees and the elven twins almost seemed to be present again at the edge of his senses.

"Good morning, Ellas," came the musical voice of one of Estel's brothers.

Or maybe that was just because one of said twins was actually standing in his room.

"Good morning," he answered softly, blinking away the remnants of his dreams and turning towards the smiling elf.

"I did not mean to wake you, little one," the tall elf said softly. 'Elladan? Elrohir?' Harry wondered sleepily – he wasn't really able to tell the difference. "The sun is rising but I know that the evening was late for you. If you wish you may rest longer. I merely came to bring you these." A hand gesture brought Harry's attention to a bundle of clothes on one of the chairs.

"Thank you," he said immediately, reflexively, before sitting up slightly and studying the clothes more closely. Despite the dim morning light, his eyes had no trouble seeing the colours and patterns on the clothing, and absently he wondered if this was how those that did not require glasses saw the world. 

On top lay a folded, dark green shirt with some sort of swirly pattern at the neck. Beneath it were several more articles of clothing, all in different earthly colours.

"Thank you," he said again, this time shyly looking at the elf, who gave him a gentle smile.

"No thanks are needed little one, you are now in our care, and so we will take care of you."

Harry looked away from the infinite gentleness in the elven face, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the soft, caring gaze.

The dark-haired elf must have seen something of his uncertainty in his demeanour, because he kindly retreated, saying; "I will leave you until breakfast. We oftentimes eat together in the great hall. Your friend, Dunnere, in the next room or Estel can take you there."

At Harry's distracted nod the elf left as silently as he had come.

  


* * *

  


It was nearly an hour later when Harry carefully opened the door and stepped out of his room.

It hadn’t taken very long for Harry to wash and get dressed, but when he caught sight of himself in a mirror he had spent several minutes staring at his reflection. His new, fitted clothes only emphasized how different he looked and how tiny he actually was. It was strange, to look at the reflection of this small, sweet-looking child with emerald eyes that seemed huge in his face, and know that it was himself.

He had never felt that he was in any way remarkable looking as a child; the Dursleys had always made sure to tell him what an unnatural freak he was, and his large clothing and round black glasses hid most of his appearance. During his years at Hogwarts the only real attention he had paid to his appearance was when attempting to tame the bird-nest that was his hair.

But as he examined his new self carefully, he was struck with how unbelievable small and … innocent he seemed. He had thought it strange how everyone treated him so carefully and kindly, as if he was made of glass, but it made a little more sense to him now, he though, looking at the tiny, fragile looking child in the mirror.

Eventually, Harry managed to tear himself away from the mirror and quickly put on Thurston's large, somewhat travel-stained cloak. He knew that it somewhat defeated the purpose of his new clean clothes, but he couldn’t help feeling strangely self-conscious about his new appearance. He couldn’t resist partly hiding himself beneath the large, familiar, cloak, wishing wistfully it might hide him as effectively as his father's cloak once had.

With this cloak in place he finally felt comfortable enough to venture from the perceived safety of his room and face the rest of the world. He hesitated before the door next to his, which he knew belonged to Dunnere. Elladan (or Elrohir?) had told him to find one of his friends when he was ready to go to breakfast and although he knew he would feel a lot more comfortable if Dunnere, or Estel for that matter accompanied him he somehow felt that he should do it alone.

'It's just breakfast.' Harry told himself firmly, annoyed by his own insecurity. 'I'm not a kid, no matter what I look like, I don't need any help walking down the bloody corridor.' And yet he stood outside Dunnere's door for a long moment, fighting the desire to have a familiar, trusted companion by his side when venturing into what he assumed was the very heart of this place. 

In the end, Harry's independent nature won out and he slowly continued through the hallways alone, making his way to the large room he had seen before.

As the open doorway to the great hall came in sight, Harry grew more and more apprehensive. 'Maybe I should have sought out Dunnere or Estel after all,' he couldn't help but think. The memory of the staring, pointing and whispering that his first entry into another Great Hall had unleashed was suddenly very vivid in his mind and Harry felt that a similar experience would be a lot more bearable with one of his friends by his side. 'Too late now' he told himself firmly, gathering his Gryffindor courage around him even as he tugged the edges of his cloak closer. 'I'm already here, I might as well go in.'

With a deep breath, Harry boldly entered the spacious room.

It took him a moment to get used to the canopy of musical voices and clinking tableware but the elvish great hall was not nearly as overwhelming as his sorting ceremony. Briefly the conversation dipped in volume as those closest to him caught sight of him and heads began to turn. Harry's heart sank slightly with the diminishing noise and he held his breath, bracing himself once more for whispering and stares – but almost as soon as their attention was drawn to him it shifted away and the conversations quickly resumed. 

Surprised, he waited warily, but although he caught the occasional glance flicking in his direction, the elves’ attention remained directed towards their plates and neighbours. In fact, most of the elves did not seem to pay any attention to him at all. Bolstered and pleased by this, but still feeling shy, he stepped forward, moving out of the doorway to the side, keeping his back to the wall. 

Comfortably out of the way Harry moved his eyes across the room, taking in the people inside of it.

One of the first things he noticed was that his human friends were not there. The room, though not immensely crowded, was filled with more elves than he had ever laid eyes on. But, while he had felt overwhelmed by just the presences of two elves, although very important ones, in his own room; here in this spacious room and with none of the elves paying close attention to him Harry did not feel overly uncomfortable.

His gaze swept the room again and easily picked out the set of twins who were seated at the long table on a dais. The table's position was such that it was easily viewed by the rest of the room's occupants, so Harry immediately decided against joining them there and instead quietly made his way to the buffet-style tables of food. Standing next to the table and picking up a plate he could not help the small giggle that escaped his lips. 'This table is nearly as tall as I am.' he thought ruefully, as he grabbed a pastry from the plate nearest to the table's edge.

By now he was actually feeling a bit amused about the situation as he continued on along the high buffet table; sometimes standing on his toes to grab something and at one time actually jumping for an apple. He was so focussed on his 'foraging' that he didn’t notice the twins watching him from the head table with laughter in their eyes, nor did he see that some of the elves seated nearby were hiding smiles behind their hands.

After his little food expedition he found an empty, out of the way table where he seated himself, slowly eating his breakfast while looking around the room with curious eyes. 

Staying unnoticed in the background was something he had always preferred over being the centre of attention as he had so often been at Hogwarts, despite Professor Snape's sneering claims to the contrary. Perhaps it was a remnant of his childhood experiences, where being noticed by the Dursley's was never a good thing and being ignored or overlooked was actually preferable. Whatever it was, Harry found it quite comfortable, sitting there alone, quietly observing the Great Hall and it’s occupants and allowing the elvish language and melodious voices to wash over him as he slowly accepted the presence of the elves around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks to DemKat for beta-ing this chapter. :)


	20. Gleeful Twins and Grave Thoughts

It was quite a while after Harry had finished his breakfast that he finally stood up to leave the Great Hall. He didn’t even make it four steps past the doorway before one of the elven twins fell into step beside him. "Good morning, little one," the tall elf greeted him.

"Good morning," he answered and tried to subtly take a good look at the elf beside him while they walked, trying to discern if this was the same elf who had woken him this morning. Harry assumed it wasn't, since that elf had already greeted him. But then, with a pair of mischievous twins you couldn't really make assumptions like that.

The elf merely smiled down at him and Harry, used to the enjoyment that the Weasley twins always took in confusing others with their identity, could easily find the amused twinkle in the elf's eye at Harry's confusion.

"So, which one of the terrible two are you?" the words flew from his tongue, unbidden.

It was only when the elf next to him made a soft surprised sound that he realised that this was something he would usually ask Fred or George, and that he was treating this elven twin much like he did either of the Weasley twins. But, despite the similarity, Harry didn't really know these twin elves that well. What he _did_ know was that Lord Elrond was the guy in charge of this place and that _this_ elf was one of his sons. And that his words could actually be taken as _very_ insulting. These weren't humans, but _elves_ \- and though he wasn't quite sure what that meant and where the difference lay, he knew that it mattered a lot - 'and they are warriors as well' he realised as he recalled the start of the battle with the wolves that he had witnessed.

Embarrassed at his own mistake, Harry slid his eyes to the ground, a slight blush on his face.

He startled and nearly flinched when a hand suddenly touched his head. His eyes snapped up and met the warm smile and amused eyes of the twin. He felt himself relax slightly and he stayed still while a gentle hand lightly mussed up his hair.

After retrieving his hand, the tall elf answered in a familiar, slightly over-dramatic way; "I, my little friend, am Elladan" he even gave a little bow here " 't was my brother who had the honour of laying out your attire this morrow…" this statement was accompanied by a sorrowful sigh, after which the elf, Elladan, suddenly perked up "Ah! But it is I who shall have the most honourable task of escorting you to…" he trailed off here.

"…to find Estel?" Harry suggested hopefully.

"Ah, little Ellas! You twist the wounding blade even deeper," the elf gasped "surely you could not prefer my little human brother over someone as awe inducing and stunning as I?"

Harry shook his head ruefully. He had made no mistake after all. This guy was _exactly_ like Fred or George.

"Hmm… well, I'm not sure. I've seen him accomplish some amazing feats that you yourself could never seek to equal," his voice sounded strange and childish, Harry thought, uttering such a sentence in mock seriousness.

"No!" Elladan exclaimed "I cannot imagine such a thing that Estel might achieve that I cannot." The elf's righteous attitude did not seem feigned. And Harry almost smiled at the admiring thought that popped into his head without prompting 'he might be even _better_ at this than Fred and George.'

Harry rubbed his chin in mock-thought. "Well… I have seen him travel many miles and when finally resting at an inn for the evening he did not even give the slightest thought to bathing."

"Ah! That, my young friend, you will soon learn is quite common amongst their kin."

The tiny elfling and tall elf continued down the hallway, bickering with a playful fondness that, had Harry stopped to analyze the situation further, might have startled him. He had not known this elf very long, after all, and it was not often that Harry genuinely joked around. But since the elf-twin reminded him so much of the down to earth (at least by wizarding-standards), _human_ Weasley twins it didn’t feel odd to him at all.

  


* * *

  


There was a deep, thoughtful silence in Lord Elrond's study, where four Dúnedain and three elves were gathered.

"I do not mean that I wish to leave." Halbarad finally uttered, breaking everyone out of their own private thoughts, "but we cannot stay here forever. Our duty lies elsewhere."

"We have a duty to Ellas as well!" The Dúnedain's Chieftain replied sharply, but after a heartbeat of silence Aragorn sighed wearily and continued in a softer voice. "but you are right, my friend. Still, leaving the little one behind when he seems yet so… uncertain feels wrong to me to the core of my very being."

"The child is still wary of us, then?" it was clear from Erestor's voice that he held little hope of a negative response to his question. He had heard of Ellas' reaction to the elves that had stared at him that first morning. How an elfling could believe he was unwelcome… it was truly a sobering thought.

"Wounds of the heart take a long time to heal." Lord Glorfindel stated softly, his eyes distant as if he was only partly there and the rest of him was wandering in a memory. Still his voice remained steady as he went on "… I can see as clearly as any that young Ellas has already faced many trials in his short existence and adding to these while his trust is still so fragile is not something anyone wishes to do. Still, we cannot ask the Dúnedain to stay here indefinitely. Ellas has been returned to his own people, and here we will care for him. With time, I hope that the wounds upon his feä may yet heal."

Aragorn sighed; "I do not disagree with either of your statements…" he gave a slight nod to his second in command and the golden-haired elf-lord. "…but I believe I will stay a while longer yet. Imladris is yet my home and I have missed it dearly. While I recognize my duty with the Dúnedain I do not believe that my men will suffer from my absence, especially when they know they may find me here."

"Yes…" Lord Elrond calmly replied after a short moment of contemplation "perhaps that would be for the best. Young Ellas seems to have put his trust in you, to some extent. Your presence will no doubt help him as he comes to know Imladris."

"Ah! To need the help of a human to make an elfling feel comfortable amongst his own people!" Erestor shook his head mournfully, "I mean no insult, of course, Estel. We are grateful for you and your men for bringing this lost one to us. But for an elfling to feel mistrustful of his kindred... It is truly a grievous thing!"

None of the Dúnedain seemed to take any offence, Estel least of all since he knew very well how elves felt about children. To the race of the Eldar any child, even one that was not of their own kind, was seen as wondrous, fragile, and undeniably precious. And an _elfling_ , as rare as it was for the elves to be blessed by a child, was cherished by all. Which made it all the more alarming that the child was so cautious around them.

Some of the troubled members in this little council both gave a small nod in agreement before Lord Elrond sensibly reminded them that not all was dark and sad, and that whatever troubles may lie in little Ellas’s past, it was not within their power to erase it. It was instead the elfling’s present and future that they were to ease. "We may be grateful to the Valar that, though the little one was beyond our reach before, at least now he has been restored to us. We may guard him now from any harm, and we may hope that in time his wariness fades."

Had these six concerned individuals seen little Ellas at that moment, they might not have been _quite_ this worried.

  


* * *

  


"Faster Elladan, faster!"

The elf ceased his chuckles to obey the elfling perched on his back. He expertly wove through the hallways of the Last Homely House until they erupted out into the gardens. The son of Elrond did not even blink to take in the change of surroundings, but seamlessly continued their escape over paths and grass and through arches, all of them undoubtedly very familiar to the elf-lord.

Although the elven warrior did not hesitate for the slightest moment in his flawless movements, Harry squealed whenever they brushed past a tree or jumped close enough to the base of a fountain to feel the spray of water on their faces.

Such a fast paced and well executed escape would have been impossible to follow by one unfamiliar with the terrain. Unfortunately, their pursuer was just as familiar with these surroundings as Elladan and seemed determined to have his retribution.

"Did you really have to include me in making fun of your twin brother?" Harry managed to ask his accomplice (though, really it was more of the other way around). He vaguely wondered why it was always him who got dragged into the middle of everything but the thought was irrelevant enough that it disappeared almost immediately in the face of bigger problems. Like that elf right-in-front-of-them-that-theyweregoingto _crash_ … Harry instinctively closed his eyes and opened them again in surprise half a minute later when he didn't feel any collision. Instead the twosome continued to lead the other twin on a merry chase through Imladris, not once running into anyone or anything. 

Despite all of the near misses it was actually one of the smoothest rides Harry had ever had. Then again, he usually rode such outlandish things as brooms, flying cars, Thestrals, Hippogriffs or even that Dragon, so maybe that wasn't saying much.

Still those elven reflexes and agility were pretty amazing.

  


* * *

  


Three troubled Rangers made their way through the corridors of Rivendell. In this peaceful elven haven even the hallways were elegant and beautiful; the decorative carvings were detailed and perfectly crafted, but did not dominate, they simple were there to view for the observant and appreciative eye.

But at the moment, these men were too caught up in their own thoughts to appreciate their surroundings. Their thoughts were focussed on the child that they had found, dirty, lost and alone out in the wilds. Though each of them had know they would be leaving the little elfling in the care of his own folk it did not make it easier to bid him farewell.

They had grown fond of the little one that came to be under their protection for a time. And each of them was dreading to tell the child that they were leaving.

Thurston sighed and glanced at the two other Rangers. Dunnere was young and though he took his duties as a protector of the people in the North seriously he still greeted each experience as an adventure. He knew Dunnere had also grown fond of the elfling they had travelled with but he was sure that the younger man would feel that in returning the little one to his own people their duty was completed successfully and the elfling would live here safely and happily for the rest of his life. 

But Thurston knew that even if the child would be safe and happy here in Rivendell, it did not completely right whatever wrongs there had been that had caused the little one to be lost and alone. And, because the elfling was very guarded in his manner and had shown no great trust in his own kin, Thurston still worried. He knew Halbarad well enough to see that their second in command was as uneasy as he was about leaving the little one behind.

Even so, it could not be helped. Though he would have liked to ensure the boy's well-being himself, he could not. The little one was amongst his own kind now and a Ranger’s duty as a protector extended to many others beside this lost elfling. He also had his own children to care for, and his longing to see them had grown stronger for every moment spent with the small elf.

In truth he was rather grateful that Aragorn had decided to stay in Rivendell for a time. Because, though he knew the elves were a trustworthy people, he could not help feeling responsible for the child. It was them, after all who had first come upon the boy and guided him here. Therefore, he wanted to be sure that they had actually done right by the child.

And, though it shamed him, Thurston found it far easier to put his trust in a fellow Dúnedain in such a matter than in a people he had heard much good about, but whom he could never fully understand. But their Chieftain would make sure that the little one was well, Thurston was sure of it.

For Aragorn had not failed them yet.


	21. Saying Goodbye

Once again Ellas received dinner in his room, instead of having to go to the Great Hall. He really didn’t mind, though. Instead of having to eat in a large room amongst many strangers he was in 'his' room, joined only by his human friends. And in Harry’s mind that was all good.

He hadn’t seen them that day and although he’d enjoyed his time with the elven twins, his eyes lighted up when they settled on his very first friends in this world.

As happy as he was at the moment, he didn’t notice the slight tension in Estel's shoulders, or the worried frown on Thurston's face straightaway. Instead it was only half way during their dinner when he realised something was wrong. He had been telling the men about his morning breakfast expedition in the Great Hall, when he felt that something was… off.

He glanced at each of his friends, wondering where that feeling came from. Only Estel could understand the elven language he was speaking and the man seemed to be listening attentively as usual. Dunnere was also listening raptly, despite the fact he knew the man could not understand, which was also not that strange, because Harry had found that the youngest of the man liked the sound of this elvish language. And yet, the usual indulgent smile that Halbarad gave him when he blabbered at him seemed strained and Thurston's eyes were filled with a seriousness that seemed out of place. His words trailed off into silence as he glanced again at Estel and noticed the tightness around those warm grey eyes.

'…what?' Harry thought, glancing between the men and trying to identify what was wrong. Dread slowly crept onto him as he noticed the little worry lines in Halbarad's face and Thurston's tightly clenched fist.

But though he could now see that _something_ was wrong with his friends, he couldn’t discern what exactly that something was. Since denial had never really been something Harry indulged in, he decided to just get it over with.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, biting the bullet as he was wont to do.

When Estel answered, he immediately wished he hadn't asked.

  


* * *

  


Harry felt the playful mood that had occasionally surfaced in him these past days vanish as if it had never been there when an icy feeling wrapped itself around him. His stomach plummeted with Estel's words as he suddenly felt reality impose itself upon him. 'Of course.' he thought absently. He should have known it wouldn't last.

It never does.

Any other time when he had found a comforting happiness with people or in a place it had proven too good to be true, why would now be any different?

He remembered back when he was eleven and had been 'freed' from his life with the Dursleys by Hagrid showing up and showing him a whole new, magical world. The utter relief, freedom and happiness he had felt then had been thrilling. He had _truly_ believed that he had escaped, that he had found somewhere to _belong_. He had been so happy those first few magical years at Hogwarts, the place he saw as home, with Ron and Hermione and his other friends, with Quidditch and _magic_. But even back then, before the war had started to taint their happiness, the days of joy had always been numbered… His return to the Dursleys when the school year ended had always loomed before him, like an inevitable doom.

Harry shook his head. 'No, I'm being melodramatic. There's no use wallowing over things you can't change. It doesn't matter.' he told himself firmly.

After all, Harry had _known_ that his new friends wouldn't stay with him: he had known that they had just been bringing him here but… He had pushed these thoughts from his mind, letting himself enjoy the present for once. He had revelled in the friendship and kindness so freely offered to him, had revelled in the thought of being with people who _cared_.

And now, suddenly, time had run out. Reality reasserted itself and he felt foolish for his lapse. He had been acting like a child. 'Stupid, Potter, stupid!' his older mind scolded 'what did you think was going to happen? You thought you could just run around merrily without a care in the world. Hah! You should have known better than that!'

Yes. Yes he should have.

A roughly calloused hand gently took his own and Harry looked up into the warm eyes of his first friend in this world. It didn’t occur to him to ask Thurston, or any of them, to stay. And though he may have been angry at himself for forgetting, even for a few days, about his situation, he could not find it in himself to be angry at any of these men.

They had treated him with more kindness than he could have expected from any one, let alone those who started out as strangers. Without them he would still have been lost and alone.

So he smiled a fake smile and told them softly that he understood and allowed them to hug him gently before they left for their own rooms.

  


* * *

  


The night was long for those who spent it worrying and dreading the dawn. Even so, when the sun finally rose to bathe the elven valley in its light it was met with reluctance by the Dúnedain. 

Slowly the men dressed and ate an early breakfast before they gathered their gear and ventured outside to face what the day would bring.

  


* * *

  


Thurston sighed heavily as he prepared his horse for travel.

They were Rangers: protectors of those in the North who did not fully know the dark threats that shadowed their doorsteps. Each of the Dúnedain fought hard to protect these Northern lands. It was a hard, painful labour that often went unthanked, nay, even unperceived but that did not make it any less important.

So why did looking into the misty emerald eyes of the little elfling before him make it so hard to remember why they must leave?

Thurston put his hand on the child's small shoulder, trying to somehow transfer a measure of warmth and protection to the child that had been his charge for just a small time. He smiled what he hoped was a comforting smile, trying to ease the sting of this farewell and when he spoke his voice was as calm and gentle as ever; "I am sorry to leave you, Ellas but our duties will not allow us to linger much longer."

The Ranger did not know what else he could say and hugged the child tightly before he rose, letting his place be taken by Halbarad, who seemed to have a difficult time with this as well. Their second-in-command managed admirably, though; lightly ruffling the little one's hair and speaking of their parting with a cheering 'until we next meet'. He embraced the child as well, giving the elfling one last smile before turning to his horse. Dunnere was last to kneel before the little one, to give him a hug and to say his goodbye.

They saluted their Chieftain and gave their thanks to Lord Elrond of Rivendell, their host.

Then, with one last look at the silent elfling, the Dúnedain ascended their horses and turned them away from Rivendell, guiding them slowly back into the Wild.

  


* * *

  


Thurston, Dunnere and Halbarad had left early that morning.

A part of him hadn't wanted to see them off, as if not seeing them leave would have made their goodbye any less real.

Harry knew better than that, though. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny reality even if it was unpleasant because he knew from experience that unpleasant things only became worse for everyone involved when you tried to ignore them or pretended they didn't exist.

Just look at the wizarding world and its Minister.

So, with a heavy heart, he had once again stood by the stables with Estel at his side. But unlike when they were waiting for their friends to return from their fight with the wolves, this time, there was no mirthful laughter. Instead there was just a horrible feeling that twisted his stomach and left him with no appetite for the rest of the day.

He had received a hug from all three of the rough looking men who had somehow become his friends. It was strange how much he had started to like these grimy men with their kind eyes and warm smiles. He didn’t know their exact words as they spoke to him because he still couldn’t understand their language. But he had _understood_ , as Thurston laid a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes, that despite the comforting smile, the man was reluctant to leave him. And he had realised, as Halbarad gently ruffled his hair and Dunnere said his goodbyes that he had never _needed_ to know their language anyway.

Though most of his time with these men had been spent travelling in silence he had gotten a feel for them from all this time spent alone with them in the wild. He knew that they were used to travelling, had seen the watchfulness and quiet competence as they traversed these lands. He had had a glimpse of them as warriors as they fought off the wolves. He had seen the disdain in the faces of the people in Bree and knew that these men, like him, were also used to being judged too easily by others. But he had seen the kindness and warmth beneath their rough exterior and had felt the gentleness of their large and dirty hands. 

Despite the fact that they had never exchanged any words that both parties could understand, he _knew_ them. 

That's what made it so difficult for Harry to say goodbye to them. He did not know anything about this world or its people. But despite the fact that he didn’t know their language, Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere were some of the only things he _did_ understand in this strange place. 

More than that, Harry, _Ellas_ , didn’t really understand himself. He didn’t even know what it _meant_ to be an elf. How was he supposed to stay here, live here amongst these beings he knew nothing about? Sure, he liked the twins, and every other elf he had met had always been kind to him, but he didn’t know them. He didn’t _understand_ them as he understood these _human_ men. And now he was stuck here without them, trying to make sense of _another_ new world. 

When his friends left, Harry's eyes had lingered on their backs as they steered their horses from the elven city. He had remained at the stables for hours after they had left his sight. Through it all, Estel's steady presence had remained by his side, leaving him his silence for the most part, though the man had occasionally tried to coax him into speaking. But, although Harry was grateful that Estel had not left with the others as well, even _he_ could not drag Harry from his thoughts and the memories of the time he had spent with these new friends. When the two of them had finally gone inside hours later, Harry had quietly excused himself and holed up in his room. 

Harry sighed and looked through the large window in his room. Though night was starting to creep into the valley, Imladris still shone with a gentle, beautiful glow. 

A soft knock on his door was easily ignored, as they had been all day. Sometimes the person would enter even if he did not answer, but other times they would leave him be. 

The door quietly opened but Harry didn’t turn to look who it was, that was until the person carried the other chair in the room opposite to him and joined him in looking out the window. 

Harry was somewhat surprised to see Lord Glorfindel, instead of Estel or his elven brothers as they had been the ones to check on him that afternoon. The elven lord smiled gently at him but did not speak and Harry was grateful for that – because he didn’t feel like speaking with anyone. But the silent elf-lord beside him didn’t feel like an imposition, so Ellas silently accepted his company. 

It was strange that Lord Glorfindel, who always seemed to have such a large presence, didn’t bother him right now. When he had first seen the blonde elf, the powerful aura of what he could only describe as 'light' made him feel small and defenceless. But now the elven lord's presence felt more like a warm glow to him and, as it brushed lightly over him, it somehow made him feel a bit better. 

Even though Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere had left, he was not alone. 

Estel, Elladan and Elrohir had already tried to make him see that with their visits, but Harry hadn't been ready to listen. They had told him that his friends needed to go home too, that there were other people who needed their help and, when these reasonable explanations did not drag him out of his funk, that they would surely come back to visit him. 

It wasn’t that Harry didn't believe them, because he did. Estel had earned his trust, and he could think of no reason for the twins to lie to him. Even so, he couldn’t help feeling somewhat… lost without his familiar, human friends. 

But, somehow the strange elven warmth could do what words had not done before and soothed his mind. For the first time that day, Harry didn't feel weighted down by the absence of Halbarad, Thurston and Dunnere and the added remembrance of all the other friends out of his reach. 

"Little one." came the soft voice of the elf by his side and Ellas finally raised his head to look fully at Lord Glorfindel, "It is time for dinner. Are you not hungry?" 

Harry silently shook his head. 

The golden-haired elf-lord was not deterred. "You need not eat much, little one, and we will dine in private tonight." Glorfindel spoke soothingly. "Will you not join us?" 

Harry wasn't really sure if he wanted to: a part of him just wanted to stay here on his own and think things through. Then again, he had been doing so all day and hadn't really gotten anywhere. Besides it would have been terribly rude to refuse. Aunt Petunia 'raised' him better than that. 

So he sighed softly and agreed, reluctantly rising and following the patient elf to a private dining room. 

Seeing the relief in Estel's eyes and the genuine happiness in his smile when Ellas entered the room made it more than worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* Those three rangers were supposed to be just random Rangers to take Harry to Aragorn, because having Aragorn find Harry would have been far too cliche even for me. But they've grown on me, those darn OC's (well, Halbarad isn't technically an OC, but that's beside the point). I'm gonna miss writing those Rangers... 
> 
> Isn't weird how I've grown fond of characters I made up? It feels rather odd to me, but then I don't often write OC's. Or stories longer than a one(or two)-shot.


	22. Of the Hope of Men and a Busy Bee

Harry awoke to the sun already illuminating his room. Though the day before hadn't involved any physical exertions, he had been strangely exhausted when he had gone to bed after dinner. Now, in the light of a new day, he felt far better. The young elf stretched out with a yawn before scrambling from his bed and getting dressed.

He had eaten breakfast in the Great Hall once before and he remembered where it was so he confidently opened his door and stepped out fully intend on making his own way there. But his thoughts turned to the evening before and Estel's relieved smile filled his mind and before he knew it his feet slowed down before coming to a stop by his friend's door. He hesitated for a moment. Even if Estel _was_ in his room, he’d probably already _had_ breakfast since it was rather late so there was really no reason for Harry to disturb him.

Once more the memory of the day before hovered over him. He remembered Estel staying by his side at the stables and visiting him in his room throughout the day even though Harry had made rather poor company.

'Maybe,' the thought suddenly occurred to him 'Estel misses them as well.'

Mind made up, Harry quickly knocked on the door.

Estel was, in fact, in his room and it became clear that he certainly hadn't had breakfast yet. Harry wondered if he should feel bad about waking his friend, but the spark of amusement he felt at the man's groggy appearance made it difficult for him to do so. During their travels each of his human friends had always been alert even shortly after being woken, but now Estel looked like any other human being after having their sleep interrupted. Harry couldn't help a small smile as he waited for his friend to get ready.

Moments later the man returned to his side, grey eyes clear and a soft smile on his face; "Breakfast time 't is indeed little one. Let us go then and see if the elves have left us some!"  
When Harry nodded in assent the two late-risers happily made their way to the Great Hall.

  


* * *

  


Erestor looked up from where he was sitting at the main table when he noticed the entrance of Ellas and Estel. The young elfling shyly cast glances at the elves in the Hall as he followed the tall man to the buffet tables. Once there the child's attention focussed on Estel and the food being assembled on his plate.

The elf continued his unobtrusive observation of the pair as they finished gathering their breakfast. Estel took a few steps towards his usual place at the table, glanced at the elfling and amended his course towards a more out of the way table where they both settled down.

The interaction between the tall man and the boy was endearing. Estel had always been such a gentle-hearted child and that had not changed when he grew into a man. His manner with the shy elfling was patient and kind and the little one seemed comfortable in his presence.

Even so Erestor could not help but be worried about the withdrawn child. He supposed the little one had taken the leave-taking of the Dúnedain well enough considering his presence in the hall. But Erestor could perceive clearly enough the reason why Estel had chosen a different table than the main one.

That the elfling did not feel comfortable at the main table on a dais was understandable, as Ellas seemed very shy in nature. But why such an out of the way place? And that it was just Estel and the elfling caused an anxiety that the elf had not felt for quite some time. Because to Erestor it seemed that what it showed was not just a trust in Estel but also a mistrust of the others in the Hall.

'An elfling untrusting of his own kin!' his mind echoed what he had already been grieved to mention in his earlier conversation with Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel and the Dúnedain: 'how distressing it is that we need a man's presence to help an elfling feel comfortable amongst us!'

His eyes had become fixed on the oblivious pair, but his thoughts were far away.

None knew from whence little Ellas came, but he was the only elfling now in Arda, and, in his more melancholy moments, Erestor believed he may well be the last. Already quite a few of his kin had been leaving these shores and he had heard enough of Lord Elrond's forebodings to know that the time of the elves had past.

'The last elfling…' he thought despairingly 'and the child has such a wounded and wary heart, distrustful even of us...'

But then the laughter of the strange pair reached his ears and Erestor blinked, shaking off the weighty cloak of his heavy thoughts. His sharp eyes took in Ellas once more; his soft tinkling laughter and the brightness in his emerald eyes. And finally a smile touched Erestor's face.

'Perhaps,' he thought to himself 'Lord Elrond was right about Estel…' His eyes now rested on the other occupant of the small table: Estel, the child who he had patiently taught to read and write. The child, whom he had sometimes fascinated, and sometimes bored, when teaching him the histories of Man and Elves and the other races of Arda. Estel, the quiet, stern but kind man who had somehow earned the trust of this lost elfling and, with his men, had returned young Ellas to the safety and care of Imladris.

'I could never understand how the young child we raised quietly in Imladris, could become the hope of all Men but perhaps I can see it now.' A few tables over Estel chuckled and the child smiled back at him. Erestor felt his heart soothed by the sound and sight and allowed himself to have a little more faith in the future.

'He has certainly brought hope to the Eldar.'

  


* * *

  


After a long, comfortable breakfast, rife with both amusing and serious conversation Harry sat back in his chair, feeling a lot better about things. Yes, he would still have liked Halbarad, Thurston and Dunnere to have stayed but they couldn't. Estel had told him that they had other duties and people who counted on them. And Harry could understand that, even if he didn't like it.

He smiled ruefully to himself. He had spent the entire day before thinking about them leaving and things definitely hadn't seemed this simple then. But somehow, now that Harry was willing to actually listen, Estel had managed to make him accept things as they were.

'Estel is rather good at that', he mused, glancing at the tall man sharing his table. The quiet, calm and somewhat stern voice the man adopted when he was _truly_ serious about something made it difficult to doubt his words.

It felt strange to Harry, to put his faith in an adult like that. He had never really had much trust in anyone besides his closest friends. And Ron and Hermione, despite both of them knowing more about the wizarding world than he did, had been just as young and unprepared for the trials they had faced as he had been.

Only Dumbledore had managed to garner such faith, but he had proven to be as fallible as any other human being and before the end of the war the high esteem Harry had held the older man in had turned into a mutual respect amongst equals.

Perhaps it was so easy with Estel because, despite his kind and patient manner, Harry could also easily recognize the man as someone who was equally used to trouble and hardships. All of Harry's new human friends had travelled with an alertness that only came from living through many dangerous encounters. And the short glimpse he had seen of the fight with the wolves had shown him that all of his new friends were experienced with battle and with the weapons they wielded with an intimate familiarity.

More than any of these things it was their gentle caring, the warmth in each of their eyes despite their grim exterior that had gained Harry's trust. There was a gentleness in Thurston, Halbarad and Dunnere that had not faltered even out in the wilderness when faced with a defenceless kid. The scornful attitude of the people in Bree had not even dimmed the simple kindness in the hearts of Estel and his friends. None of them sought to repay the hateful glares or harsh words but received them with a mature understanding and an almost paternal attitude that Harry couldn't really understand.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" An amused musical voice broke Harry from his thoughts. "Did you sleep well, little brother?"

"It must have been a very good dream…" Another voice joined in "…to keep you abed 'till the sun was already well on his way to its highest point!"

Estel was clearly very familiar with the teasing of the twins and knew exactly how to deal with them. "Do not mind them, little one" he said to Harry, completely ignoring his elven brothers "for they are but jealous that they had not thought to do the same." The man gave a melodramatic long-suffering sigh that was definitely worthy of either pair of twins before he continued: "And now, because they are so jealous of us enjoying our restful morning they see it fit to interrupt our breakfast."

Elladan and Elrohir both shot the man offended looks before turning to Harry. "Nay, child!" said Elladan emphatically, "you must not heed the words of this lazy man."

"No, for we are a much better example to follow!" Elrohir continued just as heatedly.

"For we were up with the sun, working hard…"

"very hard…" Elrohir broke in with a solemn nod

"…while Estel was yet lazing in bed!"

A part of Harry wanted to giggle, but he managed to restrain it and, out of fellowship with Estel and his own familiarity with a mischievous pairs of twins raised a single eyebrow and slowly and thoughtfully echoed "…working hard…?". Then he just stared at them, filling his expression with as much wonder and disbelief as he could manage before finishing with a soft, surprised "huh."

It was Estel who broke the short silence than ensued with a warm chuckle and a moment later the twins allowed their mock offended expressions to fade away as they joined their brother in his mirth. Ellas basked in the warmth of the moment, glad for no other reason than that he had made them laugh.

  


* * *

  


Early in the afternoon, after having escaped the lively company of Estel and the twins, Harry's thoughts returned to that earlier conversation. 

The days of travelling were over. Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere and Estel had done exactly what they had said they would do; they had brought him to Imladris. And, now that he was here, it was obvious why: he looked like an elf, an elf-child, and his human friends had brought him here to be with what they believed were his own kind. But he wasn't, not really and he didn't know how to tell them that, or even if he should. The worries that had made him keep his tongue on their way here were still on his mind; that they would believe him to be crazy, or a liar or some sort of freak. But now the lie had gone on so long that he wasn't sure if he _could_ even still tell them that he wasn't the elfling they thought he was.

Then again, maybe it wasn't a complete lie. Maybe he actually was an elfling; 'I certainly look like one.' He thought, softly touching a hand to one of his pointed ears 'And those voices _did_ tell me that it had always been in my blood.'

Harry shifted beneath the tree he had chosen to sit under, in one of the less frequented gardens of Imladris. These thoughts were too confusing and coupled with the conversation that morning it made an uncomfortable feeling churn in his stomach.

Although the teasing had been comfortable and warm, he couldn’t help but see a certain truth in it. While Harry had been lazing in bed, others had been working. He was eating their food, using their bed and bath and the clothing they had given him and he hadn't even been completely honest with them. For the first time in his life he actually _felt_ like the free-loader their relatives had always accused him of being.

  


* * *

  


Glorfindel frowned, when, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Ellas stand up abruptly.

He had come across the elfling in the company of the three sons of Lord Elrond and he had watched them play for a long moment. Observant as he was, he had noticed immediately as the child became a little overwhelmed when the three tried to coax him into more and more lively games. The elven lord's keen eyes had followed the child as he quietly distanced himself from the three. With a nod to Elladan, who met his eyes while pretending not to notice the little one leaving, he had unobtrusively followed the elfling and kept watch over him from a distance.

The young one had wandered away from the sound of voices and had finally settled in this out of the way garden. Ellas had seemed lost in thought and Glorfindel had allowed his own thoughts to wander as well, so the sudden movement of the elfling made him startle slightly. 

It took only the blink of an eye for the warrior-elf to regain his balance and he once again followed after the child, his footfalls as soundless as the falling of leaves.

  


* * *

  


A determined Harry walked around Imladris, watching the elven valley with different eyes than before. Instead of looking around in awe of the lightness and elegance of the place, or instead of trying to avoid as many people, elves, as possible now his eyes were focussed on trying to discern what needed doing. From his life with the Dursleys he was well-versed in any manner of chores; cooking, cleaning, gardening… but he didn't want to offend anyone by doing their job for them or by doing things differently.

He decided it was probably best if he joined some elves already doing something and copied them.

When he came to another one of Rivendell's many gardens he finally found what he was looking for as his eyes rested on a trio of elves carefully tending to the plants.  
Quietly he sidled up to them, smiling shyly at their warm welcoming.

"Are you lost, little one? Do you need our aid?" one of them asked him with a touch of concern. But Ellas shook his head, feeling a bit too shy to speak to these strangers when all of their attention was focussed on him. Somehow these elves seemed to sense that, because one of them calmly returned to redressing the earth around what seemed to be a newly added plant. The other was gently removing dead leaves from a rather tall bush. "Oderenion is removing the leaves that have withered so that new ones may grow in its place," the one elf whose attention had remained on Harry gently explained, removing a few of the browned leaves himself. Harry gently took one of the deadened leaves as well, and then another and another, generally taking the leaves closer to the ground as he slowly worked with the elf by his side from bush to bush and plant to plant.

Harry was surprised to hear the elves speak softly to the plants; words of encouragement and growth. Sometimes one of them would raise his voice slightly into song and the others would join in, the clear musical voices making the song seem ethereal and magical to Harry.

Nearly an hour later the elf Harry was working with did not move towards a new bush but instead turned to Harry with a warm smile; "Thank you, little one, for your help." the elf gently took one of the elfling's hands in his own and turned it over; revealing the hints of dirt that betrayed his work in the garden. "Perhaps now it is time for you to return to the house to wash and have some water. Shall I guide you back?"

Harry politely refused and with a small wave that was greeted with tinkling elven laughter, he returned to the halls of Rivendell.

Most of the elves had smiled at the little one as he had joined them in their work and indulged young Ellas for a while until they deemed the work too much for a child so young and thanked him before gently sending him away. But Glorfindel's own confused smile faded away as the child joined more and more different elves at their work, and it quickly became a frown when the tall elf could not help but notice the natural ease with which the child adapted to each of the chores; it spoke of a long familiarity with all of the work.

When he noticed the already somewhat fatigued child approaching the stables he stepped in and called out to the elfling. "There you are, little one!" he greeted Ellas warmly, keeping the concern out of his face and voice.

"Dinner time is fast approaching and it seems that you might want a bath before then…"

The young elfling blushed, no doubt conscious of how an afternoon hard work had taken his toll on him… and his clothes. Glorfindel allowed himself to laugh lightly at the sweet picture the child made.

But even as he gently guided Ellas to his room his thoughts remained filled with worry. For what had made the child so suddenly decide on aiding the elves of Imladris in their labours? It could not have been mere boredom, for the little one had worked too earnestly at each of his self-assigned chores. And why was such a young elfling so very familiar with not just one but all of these chores but could hardly remember his parents or any elf?

One thing Glorfindel _did_ know: in all likelihood he would not approve of the answers.


	23. Dinner Time and Glorfindel

This time dinner was not in a private room and Ellas hesitantly followed Estel – who had come to find him after his bath – into the Great Hall. Lord Elrond was already seated at the raised table; Lord Glorfindel to his left, his twin sons to his right. They were not the only elves at this table – there were others, whose names Harry didn't know, but some of them, he wagered, he had seen before when he'd had breakfast.

Harry carefully settled himself beside one of the twins, flanked by Estel on his left. He half-expected Lord Elrond to make a speech, like Dumbledore at the start of term, and ask Ellas to stand up and introduce himself, like the new teachers did.

Fortunately, this was not the case, and although he could tell that some of the elves glanced at him, no-one was staring at him outright. So Harry dared to let his eyes roam the hall form this new, higher perspective. With a small hint of surprise he realised that quite a few of the elves looked familiar. His emerald eyes met those of the elf he had worked beside in the garden that day and he hesitantly returned the man's warm smile with a smile of his own.

Slightly more comfortable now, Ellas turned away from the elves in the hall and glanced at Estel whose gentle smile seemed to have been waiting for him.

"Is all well, little one?"

After a small, thoughtful pause, Harry nodded and with it released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Yes, this wasn't so bad. 'This isn't Hogwarts, after all and these… elves aren't going to be gawking at my scar. I'm just a child here.'

With that thought he looked around the hall again, noticing that he was the only child there. In fact, he didn't remember seeing any other children around.

What if he was the only kid here?

One the one hand, that could be a relief. He wouldn't be expected to play with any other kids and pretend he was like them. Harry had never really learned how to be a child, after all, he hadn't had any friends to play with the first time around – unless you counted Harry hunting as a game – so he wouldn't know how to act around other kids anyway.

But on the other hand…

If there were no other children here and he was the only one… they would pay more attention to him. And Harry really didn't really like attention.

He preferred to be ignored, he was used to that from his time with the Dursleys. But in the wizarding world, where people _had_ noticed him… it was to put him on a pedestal or to insult him. To praise him for something he never felt he deserved praise for, or to slander him with lies. The only time that he had ever genuinely enjoyed the lime-light was when he was playing Quidditch; because that was something he could do as Harry, not as Harry Potter, something he was good at and something he enjoyed doing for himself and no-one else. All the attention he received for being Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived was something he would rather have done without.

As the only child here, would they be watching his every move as closely as the wizarding world had watched him? Or would they ignore him, dismiss him as an unimportant child. An unwanted, unwelcome orphan?

Harry shook his head clear of these thoughts. No, Estel had told him he _wasn't_ unwelcome here, and Harry believed him. Everyone had been kind to him so far. And Estel's brothers treated him like an other pair of twins had also treated him.

Ellas's emerald eyes moved to the twin beside him – he still couldn't tell the two apart – and the elf cocked his head at him and raised an eyebrow. Harry mirrored the dark-haired elf and the elf repaid him with a bright smile and ruffled his hair.

"Is the food not to your liking, Ellas?"

A small hint of concern coloured his voice and Harry looked down at his plate in surprise, he had been so occupied with his thoughts that he hadn't touched his food yet.

Soft, gentle laughter by his side made him blink up at the twin next to him who had obviously noticed his surprised expression. "Eat, little one," he was gently encouraged, and Harry finally started eating, his thoughts still on both pairs of twins.

These twins were different than the Weasley twins: they were elves and Harry didn't quite get what that meant yet – even though he was one himself – but he did understand that they were different from humans in many ways. He remembered how he _felt_ things far more clearly and felt very in tune with nature while he was sitting in that tree with Elladan and Elrohir.

Still, it was more than just their race that differed; Harry had caught a glimpse of them as elven lords; as the sons of Lord Elrond and people of importance. The Weasley's were far from privileged; they were a simple family, but a loving and welcoming one.

With these differences in race and circumstance the differences between them should be enormous. And yet, in Harry's mind they still seemed so much alike. Not only because of their mischievous attitude at times - Elrohir and Elladan teased him, Estel or each other in a way that was a lot like Fred and George - but also, _especially_ , because of how they treated him. Harry hadn't been as close to the Weasley twins as he was with Ron or Hermione, but the twosome understood him just as well as his two best friends despite not knowing everything that they did. Fred and George had always watched out for him, had taken him under their wing and always, _always_ treated him as family. Not like his Aunt and Uncle, but _real_ family.

Elrohir and Elladan might be completely different but in the end, it felt the same. And because of that, more than anything else, Harry could believe that this would never be like living with the Dursleys, or being watched carefully for any misstep by the masses of the wizarding world.

Estel, Elrohir and Elladan, genuinely cared for him, like the Weasley's had always cared for him. Whether he was the only kid here or not, it wouldn't really matter to _them_ , at least. Harry was sure of it.

He leaned backwards in his chair, so that he could see the blond elf-lord with whom he had also spent quite a bit of time. Lord Glorfindel met his gaze immediately and Harry blushed and looked down at his plate, feeling caught. There was something about the elf-lord that made him feel tiny in comparison – an instinct that told him that this elf was powerful and strong. But Ellas knew that he was also kind and had never been _truly_ afraid of him. Lord Glorfindel, and Lord Elrond as well, seemed to be genuinely concerned for him and his well-being. And although their scrutiny made him uncomfortable at times, he was also grateful that they cared.

It had only been a few weeks since his arrival in this world – and already he had friends. And here in Imladris he was welcome.

He nodded to himself, strengthening his resolve to let go of the fears that plagued him and to believe that this much was true.

It had been true for Hogwarts as well, of course. He had made his first friends on the train, had been welcomed at Hogwarts and there had been professors, like McGonagall and Dumbledore who had cared about him and his well-being. And yet, the wizarding world had turned out to have its darker sides as well. Harry wasn't foolish enough to believe that this world was free of those things. But during his years in the wizarding world, during the war and everything he had experienced – all the horrors he had seen and the people and things he had lost along the way – his friends, his make-shift family and that welcome had always been enough.

It would be enough for him _here_ as well.

  


* * *

  


Dinner in the great Hall was a long affair - no-one seemed to be in a hurry to go anywhere.

After Ellas had, mostly quietly, eaten his fill, Estel carefully drew him out of his thoughts and into a light-hearted conversation. The elven twins joined in and regaled him with a few tales from Estel's own childhood here. Something niggled at the back of his mind when he listened to these stories, but the elves' merciless teasing and the protests or dry remarks that Estel fired back in response distracted him from considering it further.

They must have sat in the Great Hall for hours, even after Harry stopped eating, before Estel finally insisted that those were quite enough stories for today and led Ellas back to his room.

  


* * *

  


That evening, Glorfindel felt restless. He had spoken to Elrond about the elfling's behaviour today. They agreed that it was troubling that one so young would take it upon himself to do so many tasks. They would quietly spread the word to ensure that Ellas did not exhaust himself by doing far more than he should.

Glorfindel was sure that after today, no elf would allow little Ellas to do too many chores again – they would be keeping an eye on him and, if needed, they might trick him into taking a long break with them, perhaps drawing him back into games or conversation. The elves of Imladris could be canny, if need be – especially after having lived with the twins. And having recently been around young Estel, they knew far better how to treat a child than most of their kin in other places.

Still, having a solution did not change the situation.

For there was something in Ellas' manner that worried him, and more than that, there was also something troubling him about the things the child had said – and the things he would _not_ say.

With his thoughts so turned to the elfling, it was no wonder that, while his mind was so occupied, his feet guided him to the little one's room.

Blinking back into awareness, he carefully opened the door so that it made not the slightest of noise.

The little elf on the bed hadn't noticed his entrance and continued his slumber, but there was one in the room who was awake and aware and instantly turned his attention to him.

Estel was seated in one of the two chairs at the window and gestured to the other. Curious as to what brought the man to this room he silently glided over to the chair, where they would be far enough away not to bother the child's slumber, but close enough for his elven eyes to be able to see the little one clearly.

"Why do you keep vigil over our young Ellas, Estel? Has something happened?" the elf asked of his friend, keeping his tone soft so that it would not disturb the sleeping child.

The man smiled and shook his head; "Nay. I meant only to stay with Ellas for a moment before retiring, but it seems I have stayed later than was my intent."

Glorfindel nodded and turned his gaze to the elfling. He could see that the boy was once more garbed in the same large shirt that he had seen the little one in during his arrival in Rivendell, as well as the day after. The cloak that had often accompanied it lay draped over the elfling's pillow and on it Ellas had rested his head.

"He seems quite attached to those clothes. The cloak is Thurston's, is it not? And the shirt, it seems belonged to one of your Dúnedain as well… He must miss them." Glorfindel surmised with a compassionate smile. As he spent a few more moments watching the little one, his smile turned to a thoughtful frown. "What of his own attire, though? Did you throw it away? Did it contain no clues as to where Ellas had come from?"

Aragorn shook his head, his brow creasing slightly; "Halbarad told me that the child was bare. He had nothing with him but his little seashell…"

The Dúnedan turned to the elven lord, intent on telling Glorfindel how Thurston and later Halbarad had given him these articles of clothing and how they had provided the young elfling with a more fitting attire in Bree when he noticed something odd in his old friend's stance. His mouth closed again on its own accord as he took in the frozen form of the fabled elf-lord that he had never been able to catch of guard in all his youth in Rivendell. Along with his adoptive father and Erestor, Glorfindel had always seemed one of the most all-knowing of elves. And out of all the elves he had met, the golden lord had proven the most unflappable. Despite young Estel's endeavours (aided by his brothers) he had never been able to truly surprise the elven lord.

He had _never_ seen Glorfindel as he was now, frozen in place. The powerful stare that Glorfindel directed at Ellas unnerved him greatly, for there was an emotion in it that went beyond simple worry or even fear.

The silence between them stretched while Aragorn tried to discern the cause and meaning of the elf's sudden intensity.

  


* * *

  


The Balrog-Slayer was on some level aware of the worry he was causing his friend, but did not allow his attention to drift from the small form, so innocently sleeping beneath their gazes. The young face was free of any fear or toil; 't was as peaceful as a child's face should be and proved that all was well. And yet…

His sharp elven mind could not help but go over everything he knew of the little one; it went from this tiny new piece of information, to the child's withdrawn manner to the first conversation they had held in this very room. And then there was the troubling, instinctive feeling that had been pressing on him for some time, telling him that there was something wrong with the entire situation – with the fact that an elfling had been found, though none had ever been reported as lost… or celebrated as born.

The little one had nothing with him but the little seashell, Aragorn had said just now…

"I found it when I came here" the soft voice of the elfling whispered in his mind

Lord Elrond's voice questioned this; "When you came where, little one?"

"I don't know, just…here."

Glorfindel keenly remembered how uncomfortable the child had been with these questions. What if it was more than just shyness…? The child had told them that he was on the shore before wandering the woods of Eryn Vorn, after which the Dunedain found them… but before that…?

"And before you were on the shore, child, where were you then?"

"I don't know."

"How so, child? Do you not remember?"

"I remember, but I don't know where I was" there was both uncertainty and hesitancy in the little one's voice.

"Can you tell me what it looked like where you were?"

The shake of the little one's head as he fidgeted uncomfortably beneath their gazes.

An inkling started in his thoughts but he would not allow it to take hold. Surely it could not have been… No! Ellas was but an elfling, so young, so innocent…

The child had stared down at his seashell; "I'm sorry". Such helplessness in his soft voice…

And Aragorn said that the Dúnedain had found him unclothed, lost and alone with no-one in sight. No people, be they elves, men or even dwarves. No settlements or travellers. Alone and unclothed… Glorfindel could almost remember the breeze that softly passed over him, the feel of the grass on his bare skin as he lay on his back, alone…

'No!' he told himself firmly, there was no reason to think that Ellas had gone through any such thing.

"Glorfindel…?" came the soft but worried voice of the man by his side. The elven lord turned his attention to Estel, uncommonly thankful for the interruption of his thoughts. "Are you… well?"

He gave a sharp nod; "Of course, Estel. Forgive me, I was but lost in thought." With one last glance at the elfling he silently left the room, escaping the painful memories that had been stirred in his mind.

In all his years, he had heard of no other who had experienced what he had, there was certainly no reason to think that such a young one had… _No_ … No reason at all.


	24. The Shadow of Memories

The next day dawned with a warm brightness that gently spread itself over the peaceful elven valley. Yet the shadow of the night before and the memories it stirred still hung heavily upon Glorfindel and the elven lord greeted the sun not with a glad smile, but with a weary sigh.

Silently he dressed and it was almost with relief that he left his bedroom - for the night he had spent in it had not been pleasant. 

After leaving Ellas's room, his thoughts had been a heavy burden upon him. Usually when his mind was troubled he would walk beneath the moonlight until his mind settled. And if that failed he would seek the council and company of Elrond. But there are some burdens that are not easily shared, some thoughts and fears not easily worded.

So Glorfindel had made his way to his bedroom and carefully closed the door behind him, shutting himself away with memories of a long ago age, a city long fallen and a desperate flight, a desperate fight - demonic fire amongst the mountains.

Memories of awakening in a world changed. His skin soft and new, unmarked by any scar and yet carrying a wound on his heart that no other could share. Grief not only for friends and for a city lost but perhaps even for himself. For who he had once been. The House of the Golden Flower had long since been lost and he could not be the Glorfindel he had always been before death and time had left him behind.

Yes, his night had not been pleasant. But now he closed the door behind him again, this time on the outside of his bedroom. Deciding to let the memories of his own past rest behind the closed door was not very difficult in the light of day. But his worries for Ellas were not as easily put to rest.

Wounds of the heart take a long time to heal... Glorfindel had had that time and though a scar remained, invisible to all but himself, his own wounds, his own memories had long since stopped haunting him.

Except on nights like these, when they were brought to the surface.

His suspicions for Ellas were almost unthinkable, but Glorfindel new better than to discount any possibilty, no matter how unlikely, out of hand. Especially when one was already dealing with an impossibility. An elfling that no elf on Arda had known about - for he was sure that none would have left him alone in the wild, and had he been lost there would have been word. There _should_ have been word of his birth.

Much as he did not wish for any to share his fate, Glorfindel feared that it was actually possible. Perhaps it was merely the shadow of his own memory encroaching on his thoughts. He had no proof that Ellas had suffered the same fate as him. But he knew that there was something amiss in the little one's past.

Ellas was haunted by his own shadows. The little elfling carried his own wound upon the heart and Glorfindel prayed that he too would find healing in Imladris.

  


* * *

  


While there was one in Imladris who awoke with dread still upon his heart, there were others who greeted the dawn more hopefully.

Aragorn smiled when he found the young elfling already seated at a table with his two brothers. It was heartening to see the little one come out of his shell. His initial shyness still remained in part, but it seemed that the twins, at least, had conquered the strange distance between them with their usual persistence, playfulness and endless patience.

It was his hope that with time, kindness and patience, Ellas would overcome whatever shadows his past hid – and these things could be found in abundance in the House of Elrond.

“Estel!” A sweet voice called to him and he laughed freely as he made his way to the one who uttered it.

“Good morning, little one,” Aragorn greeted as he drew up a chair, “Good morning Elladan, Elrohir.”

Whatever it was that lied in Ellas’s past that made the elfling so withdrawn, quiet and wary, the child was still capable of both genuine joy and trust. He could read both in the boy’s face as he looked up at him.

There was reason to be hopeful.

  


* * *

  


When they left the hall behind after breakfast, Ellas had lingered behind a bit and, when Estel and his brothers were talking to each other, he had snuck away. 

He liked Estel, of course he did, and he was starting to like the elven twins as well – though he was a bit more wary around them still, afraid he would make a mistake somehow and show to them that he really didn’t know the first thing about being an elf. 

Despite that, he liked spending time with Elladan and Elrohir. But he could join them again later. First he wanted to do what he did yesterday – to help out instead of being babysat. He wasn’t really a child after all.

And Harry wasn’t really sure what to do, otherwise. Now that they were here, in Imladris, there was no more travelling. Ever since he arrived in this world he had had this rhythm of getting up, walking when he was still alone and riding after meeting up with his friends, until dinner.

Now that there was nowhere to travel to he felt a bit lost. What was he supposed to do all day? His first childhood had been spent running away from Dudley, going to school or doing chores. But he hadn’t been given any chores, no-one had mentioned anything about a school and, thankfully, Dudley wasn’t here.

And it had felt good to _do_ something - even if it was just chores. He couldn't access his magic, and he couldn't do the things he was able to do as an adult wizard, but at least he could still be useful. That was a _good_ thing, wasn't it?

Now if only those elves would actually _let_ him help. But now yet another group of elves that he had joined distracted him from working. This time one of the elves slowly led him away from the rest, at first telling him things that seemed relevant to the work but slowly transitioning into a long story. 

With a little huff, Ellas gave up and settled down on the bench they had oh-so-conveniently reached.

By now he realized that it couldn't be a coincidence - those elves were being sneaky!

Harry was embarrassed how long it took him to notice it, because when he finally did it seemed obvious.

He pouted, feeling a bit insulted - he may be a child but he could still help! A part of him wanted to stalk away, because if they didn't _want_ his help he might as well go away.

It's just... the story was actually pretty interesting and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a story or part of the history of this world. It was difficult to tell, because he had a feeling the elf was glossing over the more interesting bits. But when they reached the point that a lady changed into a seagull he felt pretty sure into which category to place this story. ‘So, a myth then. I wonder if it’s a really well-known story in this world, like that of King Arthur in mine.’

"And so we can see Eärendil even here, as the evening star in the sky," the elf finished and Ellas was satisfied despite being foiled in his plans because this story had everything; love, battles (even if he didn't get to hear any details), magic and dragons.

That didn't change the fact that this elf was being sneaky about not letting him help. And Harry was going to let him know he noticed, so he tilted his head in question and asked the elf: "How does this help with cleaning?"

The storyteller remained completely unruffled at his question, something that made Ellas pout just a bit.

"Well, little one, I felt you might wish to know more about Imladris and its lord. It was for that reason that I told you the story of Lord Elrond's parents."

Harry blinked up at the elf, who smiled at him. "Ah, I believe it is lunchtime now, little Ellas. Shall we make our way to the hall?"

With an absentminded nod, he trailed after the elf but in his mind he was still trying to make sense of how Eärendil and Elwing were apparently Lord Elrond's parents. Even if he didn't focus on the strange events (if those higher beings could bring him here as a child elf, then they could probably change a woman into a bird), the story had still sounded more like a legend or myth than history. The way the elf had told it, it sounded like it happened ages ago.

It was really strange.

Ellas must still have had an odd look on his face when they entered the hall for lunch, because the elvish pair of twins made their way to his side and one of them said; "Greetings, Ellas. You look like you are thinking deeply. Aye, I know it to be a difficult task myself! ‘T is not easy to make a decision on what to eat today."

"I thought you had solved that problem by deciding to eat everything, my brother?" was how the other twin responded, with a pointed look at the elf's stomach.

Ellas just stared at the two of them for a moment and, guided by his innate curiosity, bluntly asked; "Did your grandmother really change into a seagull?"

He heard the elf who had told him the story laughing as he walked away from them and wondered if he might have been pranked. It was a testament to how comfortable he had gotten around these two when it came to teasing and the like that he mentioned this out loud.

“Did that elf just trick me?”

One of the twins laughed, while the other answered him with an amused smile; “No little one, if he told you the story of our grandparents, then I can tell you that this did indeed happen, though it was long ago.”

How long ago could it have been, if it was a story about their grandparents? There was something else lingering at the back of his mind as well, when he thought about this, something strange that he had heard… “How long ago?”

“’T was at the end of the First Age, little one, over five thousand years ago,” the elf informed him.

“Come Ellas, we can tell you more while we eat,” Elladan or Elrohir said, steering him gently towards the raised table.

But Harry wasn’t really listening, because this _didn't make sense_. He opened his mouth, ready to tell them that that was impossible, even if it _really_ shouldn’t need to be said.

And he stopped, because in the back of his mind things were slowly sliding into place. He remembered, in the stories that Estel, Elladan and Elrohir had told him of the man’s childhood, that neither of the elves had been a child like Estel. They had played the role of older brothers. Which shouldn’t have been _possible_ , because they looked younger than Estel.

 _Was_ that even possible? ‘I don’t think they were lying to me, and I don’t think they are lying now. But…’ 

But it _should_ have been impossible. 

Ellas let the two elves lead him to the raised table and sat down between them. He quietly ate what the twins put on his plate and listened as they told him a bit more, but he couldn’t bring himself to give more of a reply than the occasional nod.

Because his mind was filled with questions. And to one of these he _really_ needed an answer, because if Elrond’s grandparents lived _five thousand years_ ago, then how long did these elves live?

And how could he ask that when he was sure that he was already supposed to know this? He was, after all, _supposed_ to be an elf himself.

He didn’t even want to think about what it would mean for him if the answer to that question turned out to be ‘A real bloody long time’. 

But now that the thought had formed, he couldn't shake it anymore and his breath caught in his throat as he felt a hint of panic flutter in his chest. 

The twin that was talking halted abruptly in his explanations, obviously recognizing that something was wrong, “Ellas, what is it, little one?”

Harry mutely shook his head and looked away, his eyes roaming the hall, looking for a safe haven to settle upon, but Estel _wasn't there_ and everything was alien, _elven_ , and only now was he starting to realise just _how_ very different from human that could be.

His eyes were drawn to movement at the entrance of the hall and he saw Lord Glorfindel enter. Their eyes met, and panicked green eyes met warm, steady, _ancient_ looking ones.

And Harry was brave: he had faced everything life had to throw at him and he had done it standing up straight – even in front of Voldemort himself.

And Ellas uncertain of his place in this world and scared of being left alone again, but also willing to trust. To trust in these elves, in the light that he could feel from them and the peace and welcome he could find even from simply sitting in a tree. He _wanted_ the kindness and warmth that Thurston, Halbarad, Dunnere, Estel, Elladan, Elrohir, even Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel so freely offered him.

And Harry was still homesick for Hermione, for Ron, for an adult body and magic and _his_ world, even if he hadn’t really liked it all that much at the time. And this world was so very much not his and he was a stranger again, different, unwittingly stepping into another world just like the eleven year old he had once been.

He wasn't sure if it was the childish elf in him or just him or if there even was such a distinction anymore. But he needed to get away from this hall with too many people, too many _elves_. Without making any conscious decision on what to do, his body reacted - he bolted.

Pale and panicking, Ellas dove under the table, scrambled to the other side and _ran_.

A warm pair of arms encircled him before he could even manage to exit the hall.

He struggled, instinctively, because the feeling of being held like this was unfamiliar. But he couldn't get loose, the arms holding him - Glorfindel's arms a part of him realised - were too strong.

Moments later he was gently set down.

And he became aware of several things:

He was in his room, Glorfindel had carried him to his bed.

There was, thankfully, no one else there but the two of them.

He was crying.

  


* * *

  


After that first meeting with his new human friends, who he had slowly come to trust, that first desperate feeling of being lost and alone in a strange world, so far away from anyone he cared about had settled, just a bit.

Now it was back, in full force. Harry felt as lost and alone as he had when he discovered that he had lost the first people he had found and he couldn’t stop this body from crying.

He had faced worse odds, Harry tried to tell himself, had lived through things much more dire than… than _what_? Discovering that these elves might be immortal or something? That wasn’t something he knew for sure – and he wasn’t sure if it applied to him either. 

Not knowing anything about being an elf, then?

He hadn’t known anything about being a wizard either, at first. But he hadn’t been afraid – he had been excited. A new world of magic, a chance for finding a _real_ home. An escape from the Dursleys.

And there he had found Ron and Hermione, his first friends.

He was _aching_ for the two of them right now. 

And if not Ron or Hermione, then he wanted Thurston, with his warm and careful hands and understanding smile. He could have told the man _everything_ , because Thurston couldn’t understand the language, but seemed to understand Harry well enough anyway.

But Thurston wasn’t here either, instead there was the bright elvish light of Glorfindel, and the elf was kneeling in front of where he was sitting on the bed, arms stretched out towards Ellas, but carefully not touching. Patient and kind, and how many years had this elf lived? How much had he seen and done and still have that warmth?

Harry didn’t, _couldn't_ understand.

The elven lord was whispering to him, telling him that all was well, singing softly of trees and flowers and the fragrant breeze in spring and playful grasses and soaring birds, telling of warmth and of welcome and of comfort. And slowly, the elf reached out, brushed a hand over his hair and inched closer.

And one of those warm, strong arms lifted to fit around him, loosely, gently and comforting, but Harry backed away from the edge of the bed until his back was resting against the wall, frightened eyes fixed upon the golden-haired elf.

It wasn’t because he, Ellas, _Harry_ , didn’t want the comfort that the elf offered him.

It was because he _did_.

He wanted too, oh how he wanted too. His heart nearly burst for the wanting. And yet… he was too scared to accept it, the affection, the care, the _love_ that he had always longed for and that was so freely offered to him now.

But he wasn’t sure if it was possible that Lord Glorfindel actually cared about _him_. 

What if it was this _elfling_ that he, that all of these elves cared for instead? But with every day that went by, the line in his mind between him and this elf-child he had become began to thin. 

No longer was he sure where Harry ended and the elfling began. Was this longing to be held and loved a remnant of the Harry Potter he had been or was it the child in him that desperately wanted to be loved? 

He didn’t know anymore. He just knew that he was unreasonably scared. 

‘If the wizarding world could see me now,’ Harry thought ruefully, ‘their ‘saviour’. 

But it was true all the same.

He was scared witless of what would happen if he gave in. 

He was scared that giving in to this childish, elfling side of his would erase who he had been before this. While he had often wanted nothing more than to be rid of the image of a saviour, of being the boy-who-lived, he didn’t want to erase himself entirely. Because if he did than he would not just lose himself, but also his parents, his godfather, his friends.

He was scared that allowing himself to bask in the care offered to him would be a betrayal of his parents. Of his father who had fought for him and his mother who had sacrificed herself for him. He was afraid that letting these people care for him would mean giving them up _entirely_. 

When Sirius had offered to take him it had been different, because his godfather had been entrusted with that by his parents. And Harry had jumped at that chance, but then that chance was mislaid with Sirius being on the run for the law and then lost altogether with his death.

And Harry was once again send back with the Dursleys, where magic, wonder and care were completely foreign concepts.

Now, more than anything else, Harry was scared that he would lose it again. If he gave in now and became used, no _dependant_ on this care - how would he survive if it was once more taken from him? 

He didn’t know and he didn't want to find out.

So he kept his distance. And while Glorfindel continued with his soft song, Harry sat quietly curled up on his bed, waiting for the tears to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to make it clear that my Tolkien isn't as solid as that of a die-hard fan. 
> 
> I love the Lord of the Rings, and the Hobbit as well - enjoyed both the books and the movies, but I am very far from an expert and have only read them once in their entirety. Soooo... please forgive my lack of knowledge when it comes to... stuff. Like the Valar. And the details of Glorfindel's past. I know that it's not undisputed canon that both Glorfindel's were the same person, but it's obviously what I'm going with. Because slaying a Balrog is awesome. But yeah. I may be making stuff up also. Or at least, drawing my own conclusions and not sticking to canon as strictly as some might prefer... 
> 
> If I do get anything wrong, I will be grateful for someone pointing it out, but also unlikely to change it.


End file.
